Throwing the Cat Amongst the Pigeons
by auzziewitch
Summary: And then came Neverland; a place where she was forced to confront some of her deepest and darkest secrets, and where her past and her present smacked her in the face and said 'deal with this or your future is going to be a repeat of your past.'
1. Come Hell or High Water

Hello.

I'm sure there's a handful of people reading this staring at their screen thinking "Oh, mai, gawd, I thought you'd died! Now could you finish one of the stories you started ages ago and never finished because that story was really interesting and I couldn't wait to see how it would go." Well, I'm getting there, but I strongly doubt I will. (New readers, you have been warned, I enjoy 'forgetting' to complete stories.)

Regardless, I'm also certain there's one or two people out there doing a little woop that I'm writing again. Good for you, but you really need to get outside and smell a couple of flowers.

And so I come to this story. It actually originated as a one off, a bit of Captain Swan fluff, but then I couldn't really stop writing and suddenly it became a bit more than a one off. I doubt this shall reach the dizzying heights of the novel, but it shall be an adventure; expect trolls, toads, far-off places, daring swordfights, a prince in disguise! (Oh and a bit of smut; this story is rated M for a reason.)

Anyway, now that I've got the overture out of the way, I say its time for the curtain to raise, and on with the show!

~88888~

**Title: Throwing the Cat Amongst the Pigeons**

**Rated: M**

**Summary: **

**And then came Neverland; a place where she was forced to confront some of her deepest and darkest secrets, and where her past and her present smacked her in the face and said 'deal with this or your future is going to be a repeat of your past.'**

**It's been a week since our villains and heroes returned to Storybrooke following their adventure in Neverland. In the stifling heat of an apartment, and with the exhaustion of sleep deprivation and parental-child discomfort, Emma makes a decision she never thought she would.**

**Disclaimer:**

**I do not own Once Upon a Time, it's characters, or its stories.**

~88888~

Heat was not her friend. And it wasn't even summer! Emma wasn't entirely sure who had set the thermostat to the epicenter of hell degrees, but whoever it was, they would pay. She couldn't understand how everyone else in the apartment was able to sleep. Granted everyone else was her parents and granted sleep was not really what they were doing. It had only been a week since the adventure in Neverland had (thankfully) ended. Everyone who had returned aboard the Jolly Roger had looked at each other once safely back in Storybrooke harbor and had silently acknowledged that this style of life needed to end; no monsters, no villains, no hero's, no magic; 'let's just all be normal' they had said. For Emma's parents that had meant 'operation family expansion' was underway. She was thankful she and Regina had discovered a way to have Henry and not have Henry, as it meant he wasn't always around to catch the noises coming from her parent's bedroom.

After the Neverland ordeal, Emma had decided Regina was truly trustworthy. She had demonstrated a determination to save the little boy that Emma had shared. They couldn't fight each other anymore; both of them _were _his mother, and fighting each other was only going to push him away. So the three of them had had a surprisingly short conversation; let _him _decide was the result. Let him choose which mother he wanted to spend his time with. Henry had quickly decided that both of his mom's homes had their advantages; if he wanted a bit of quiet, he would usually head for Regina's, simply because there weren't four occupants in the house, he could get his homework done, get a good night's sleep, and a full belly to boot. (Regina _was _a really good cook). It was at about that point that Neal had piped in; he was Henry's father after all, he did have some right to spend time with the boy. The two women had looked at each other and acknowledged that it was going to be hard enough sharing him between the two of them, let alone adding another parent to the mix. But Henry had reminded them all that just because he chose to sleep in one bed over another, didn't mean he didn't love them any less. They were all going to have to figure this out as they went, all he wanted in that moment was some of Granny's famous lasagna. That had effectively ended the conversation as they all departed the ship heading for the warmth of the diner. Thus far, no great issues had emerged with their 'arrangement'; in fact Emma was proud that he (and by extension, her, Regina and Neal) wasn't making a big deal out of whom he spent his time with. There hadn't been any competing amongst the parents, and each had respected the other's claim. Such was the lack of animosity that when Henry walked into the apartment earlier today and felt the wave of heat erupt upon his face, he had very promptly turned and disappeared. Emma wasn't at all concerned or disappointed by the departure; in fact she wished that _she _had somewhere else to go and escape the furnace.

So that was the story of her parents, a week after Neverland and her son. Regina, despite the 'solution' that had been found where Henry was concerned, was, well, being Regina. Magic was her crutch; she had proved (according to David and Henry) that attempting to live without magic was a struggle for her. She couldn't seem to escape its cold embrace. But she was a useful teacher, and whilst she wasn't anywhere near as knowledgeable as Gold was, nor as gifted an orator of the magical world, she did speak about magic in a way that sent tingles up and down Emma's spine. Gold meanwhile had enabled Emma to not just _know _that she had magic inside of her, but had made her _understand _it – at least begin to – and understand what she was capable of if she _believed_. That particular lesson had been just a little unsettling given how like Pan he had sounded, but the following day he had demonstrated it to her. It wasn't simply about her believing that she _could _lift the pen on the counter or that she could light the candle (which by now was a little easy), no, no, no, her magic wasn't quite like that. Her magic was more powerful than anything people like Regina, or even Cora, could begin to understand and comprehend. Her magic was tied to her being a product of True Love, and as such, meant that she could conjure spells and potions that he had difficulty with, quite simply. And all of those spells and potions were tied to her emotion; Love, and True Love at that, was a force more powerful force than all of Regina's and his power combined. Emma had become a little bored by the lecture as most of it she already knew, but as she practiced the protection spell he had her cast, she began to understand what he truly meant by it. It did nothing more than pique her curiosity and had her wanting to know more. If only Neal had been more understanding about her seeming natural interest.

It was clear that the relationship between Neal and Gold was going to take _a lot _of work. Gold was trying, and Belle was helping, but Neal could not stop seeing the evil in everything that his father did. She had thought he was coming around to the older man in Neverland, trusting him more, not questioning his motives or his morals, but alas no. Returning to Storybrooke had ended his seeming forgiveness and acceptance of his father's choices. Emma learning Magic did little to alleviate the situation. No matter what her personal opinions on Gold/Rumpelstiltskin were, she could not deny that his knowledge was remarkable. The way he talked about magic both filled her with fear and awe. She wasn't sure if he was talking about the craft with love, simple adoration, or obsession, but he knew what he was talking about. (And he had managed to get her to do a lot more than lighting a candle.) Neal had attended one of her lessons; well gatecrashed was probably a more appropriate term. Whatever issues he had with his father she could handle, but his issues with her and her learning Magic was alarming. It became clear that he had pushed his apprehension aside in Neverland, such was his desire to save Henry, but in Storybrooke, there was nothing stopping his apprehension from shining on through. Gold had stepped out to give them a moment, which had turned into a full blown argument that Emma was quite certain the entire town heard. Who was he to judge her trying to understand the Magic that she was born with, that came as part of her being a child born of true love? It's what made her The Savior. There was a reason Belle and Gold got on; she didn't take his crap and also knew when to call out Neal on his. And yet despite the argument between her and Neal (where she had basically told him that there was no better person to educate Emma than Gold himself), which Emma was also certain the entire town heard, somehow, Belle and Neal had become friends. Now if only Neal could get on with his father and get over her desire to understand the magic inside of her, because all that he was doing now was pushing her away.

But maybe it was for the best? I mean he had only come back into her life for a few short weeks before he was shot by his fiancé, she told him she loved him, and he fell through a portal that was opened by his fiancé to his apparent death then reappeared a few days later alive and well in Neverland promising he would never give up on her only to off his top when she did something that was outside of his comfort zone. She didn't know anymore, once she would have done anything to restore their relationship, but now, she wasn't so sure. She remembered hearing something her father said of her mother and of the love they shared; they never gave up, they always found each other. They encountered endless opposition to their union and they never let it part them. And the few times that it did, they fought to find each other again. Thinking about that made her look at her relationship with Neal with sad eyes. Sure they were trying, but it was clear that they were failing. The only thing they talked about was Henry, and half the time, not even that was enough. With each conversation, Emma found herself regretting her decision. Neal had nothing in common with her, not anymore; they were trying to revive a relationship from a decade earlier when they were both different people with everything in common. He was a thief on the run, and she was a young girl finally free of the oppression of foster care, and in love for the first time. He was now a man; he had a good job (he had had a stable girlfriend, nay fiancée), a good life; he'd made an honest man out of himself. And she was now a mother, a daughter, a savior, a Hero to a group of people some of whom she had never met. Storybrooke had changed her in a way that she did not think was ever possible. She had hope; for the first time in years, she looked forward to tomorrow. Ten years ago he burned her, he was the reason she had crawled into a shell that was more impenetrable than before. She came out of prison with more walls built than she had ever had. She hadn't had a decent relationship since; just flings, one night stands, and one or two 'arrangements'. She wasn't the broken child anymore; she was the broken and hard woman. She had built walls around herself, meant to protect her from experiences like what she'd had with Neal, and for a decade, nothing and no one came close to breaking them, until Storybrooke, where they started to finally crumble as she found the one thing that all her life she had been seeking: her family.

And then came Neverland; a place where she was forced to confront some of her deepest and darkest secrets, and where her past and her present smacked her in the face and said 'deal with this or your future is going to be a repeat of your past!' And in Neverland she had also been forced to deal with one fellow who increasingly was playing a part in her head.

Hook.

The night they got out of Neverland, the night they got back to Storybrooke, everyone had been truly happy that they were out of that Godforsaken place. They were all hugging and embracing, relieved to be home. She didn't realize he was gone until they were halfway to Granny's. He was making her decision for her. She had paused on the walk, looked back to the harbor and silently thanked the space the group had just traveled, thinking that was what she wanted, but she knew now that it wasn't. She and Neal had no future, they only had a past. A part of her would always love him, but that was solely because he was her first love, and the father of her child. But she wasn't _in _love with him, not anymore.

She stared up at the ceiling of her room unable to sleep, and unwilling to continue trying. The heat was stifling, she had her window open and not even that was enough. She was just wearing a shirt, the thinnest, flimsiest one she owned (she had never been comfortable sleeping naked), and her sheets and blankets were lying in a crinkled heap at the foot of her bed. There was no noise in the apartment, meaning her parents were asleep. It seemed there was only one thing strong enough to induce sleep in this house. It was barely midnight; she had spent almost three hours trying to stifle the noises from the other occupied bedroom, trying to sleep. She was sick of trying, sick of being kept awake by thoughts of her son, his father, her parents, Regina, Gold and everyone else in Storybrooke. There was only one thing she could do. She got up, got dressed, grabbed her coat and keys and headed for the door. She needed to escape the boiling hot confines of the four walls surrounding her; needed some fresh cold air in her lungs and against her face. Dammit, she was _going_ to get some sleep tonight.

~88888~

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	2. There's a Method to my Madness

Despite the furnace that she was sweltering in, just a glance out the window told her it was the North fricking Pole outside. Snow was falling from the sky, coating the ground in the fine white dust that to so many said holidays, hot cocoa and raging hot fires. It would be nice though if the apartment's thermostat agreed that raging hot did not equate to so fricking hot it was like the air was on fire.

Outside the apartment a wave of cool air hit her. It was truly disconcerting. As she made her way down the stairs, she felt the air get colder and colder. She shivered slightly. Thankfully the snow that was falling was hardly a blizzard, as the soft flakes dusted the ground. Each step crackled underfoot. Emma Swan did not have a favorite season, or a favorite weather pattern, but she did love the crunch of snow underfoot. All she wanted to do was walk, inhale the snow-filled air deep into her lungs and try and find some form of tiredness that would overcome temperature.

Her walk was going well, she wasn't thinking and exhaustion was beginning to overcome her. She was at the point of turning and heading back when she heard the gentle crash of waves and realized her feet had carried her to the docks. This was not her intention. This was not part of her plan. Whatever feelings, no thoughts, she had had about him since _that _moment were not enough to subconsciously carry her here, (despite the fact they evidently had). Cursing herself she thought briefly about ignoring temptation and heading back, but looking at the ship before her, she knew she couldn't. She _had _to speak to him. These thoughts _had _to be resolved. And the only way they could be resolved was her seeking him out and saying the things to him he never gave her a chance to say when they escaped Neverland.

The moment she was on deck her eyes sought him. It took her a few moments but eventually she saw him sitting against the mast staring up at the sky.

"If you're wondering what I'm doing, I'm trying to memorize the constellations of this world." He rasped, not looking up and taking a swig from his flask.

"How did you know I was here?" _ You haven't seen this guy in a week, you've been thinking about him constantly, dreaming about him every night and all you can think to say is how did you know I'm here? Really Emma?! _Yeah, her subconscious needed to be dealt with if that was how she was going to react to his first words.

He chuckled, raising himself from the deck. "I didn't know it was you, love, just that somebody came aboard my ship without consent." He said taking a few steps towards her. "What can I do for you this fine evening?" He queried with a mock bow.

Emma scolded herself again. What _had _her feet been thinking taking her here? What had her brain been thinking when she consciously decided to continue the journey to him? He was nothing more than an arrogant ass, and in this moment he was trying her patience. _But he had a mighty fine ass _the devil in her brain whispered.

"Come come now Swan, don't stand on ceremony. Speak." He was still mocking her.

"I came to see you." She got out after one too many beats.

"Well that part was obvious." He retorted. "Well you've seen me now, so I say it's time you go. Wouldn't want anyone to wonder where you are." There was venom in his words that she had never heard before. He turned away from her, walking away.

"That's not the only reason I came." She spat, following him. "They never had a chance to thank you." For some reason, the term 'I' suddenly became foreign.

Emma Swan did not bow to her emotions; how could she when she did not feel anything? Love was an emotion that for a long time she had viewed as a weakness, it was, in a twisted way, Cora who showed her how it was truly strength. But that was family. She was saving her mother, her son, everyone she loved in that moment; it had nothing to do with romance. In this moment, saying 'I' suddenly exposed her to the side she was definitely not comfortable with, especially with him standing before her. She wanted to face him, to thank him for his help in Neverland, that part was true, but suddenly every single word she threw at him was filled with emotion, and for Emma, that was speaking a completely new language. Saying 'thank you' was only going to lead to unwanted (_and highly sort after_) complications.

It was a turn in the conversation. He stopped walking and faced her, a mask gracing his features. "They had no reason to thank me. I did nothing." He spoke quietly, walking past her, back in the direction he had just come.

She breathed heavily, her heart suddenly thundering at him. _How had he missed that? 'They' means me, you moron! _"Nothing?" She scoffed, following him a step behind. "You have a funny way of doing nothing. First you helped us _get _to Neverland, then you saved my father's life-"

"Which you already thanked me for." He cut in, the ghost of a smirk gracing his features.

"Then you saved my mother's life-"

"Which your father thanked me for." He cut in again, grazing his left cheek.

"You saved Neal's life, which you easily did not have to do-"

"I wasn't going to let him die like that." He bit in not looking at her.

"You saved Henry."

He stopped walking, and turned to properly face her. "I'm not sure what adventure you were on, but there were about seven or eight of us that got your boy off that island."

But Emma was finding her voice. Each statement had filled her with a determination that nothing he said could stop her. "You helped; you didn't have to, but you did. And you saved me." She whispered, in an effort to tell him without words the thoughts that had been plaguing her for the past week. It worked because whilst he opened his mouth to retort, he closed it almost immediately after, his eyes finding hers and boring in.

"When did I save you?" He asked after a beat, stepping close to her, invading her space. "You weren't hanging off a cliff, nor where you being sucked into a portal to an unknown world. You weren't dying; you didn't have hidden arrows flying at you. When did I save you?"

She stepped toward him closing the gap between them. "By waking something up in me that I didn't think existed anymore." She spoke as she moved closer to him, her brain clearly out of control.

His eyebrows jumped. "Oh? And what was that?"

"Love." She breathed unthinking before kissing him.

She found, as their lips met, that she didn't care that she had just exposed herself onto a silver platter. She didn't care that she had just dropped her walls for the first time in years, didn't care that he had won – like he had said he would – and didn't care that he had proved he was right about her. He was a stranger who had seen through her mask from almost the moment that they met. He was the smug bastard who had called her out repeatedly, read her bluff on numerous occasions and known exactly what cards she was holding. Neal knew how to read her, once. And she him, but recently she had found that their minds weren't in sync the way they once had been. He didn't know anymore what she was thinking as she ate her ice cream, didn't know what her eyebrow jump meant as she tasted Granny's new Chicken Parmigiana (she'd changed the cheese). And likewise, she hadn't been able to read him. She thought back to what it had been like when they first met. He knew she was a kid with issues, knew she had walls, and he had effectively overcome them within a short space of time. But then he broke her heart and her walls doubled, no tripled in size. Hook on the other hand, met her, and immediately unsettled her. He rattled her walls, attempted to scale them, and then discovered a shovel. She was making a decision, she was making a choice. She wanted the man who found the shovel, not the man who was trying the same old tricks to scale higher and tougher walls.

It took Hook a moment to realize what was going on. This was nothing like the kiss they had shared in Neverland, which spoke volumes. Their arms wrapped around their bodies, grabbing hair, skin, clothing and anything else. Yes this kiss was different; it was leading somewhere. His hands – well hand and hook – slid down her sides to her hips as he turned them and pressed them back against the mast. His hook found a slither of her skin exposed between her shirt and her jeans that elicited a gasp and a shiver; his hand trailed up her body and finished at her breast. That feeling broke their kiss as she pulled her face away from him. He too, took a step back, sensing that he had overstepped his bounds.

"Forgive me, I was out of line." He bit his lip turning half away, trying to ease the tension.

Before he was out of her reach she grabbed his hand and pulled him back to her, putting his hand back where it had left a temporary cold patch. "Not out of line, nowhere near the line." She whispered, finding his lips again.

That proved to be all the encouragement he needed. Their mouths dueled each other, tongues fighting for supremacy as their hands set about fighting the garments they were covered in; the only times their lips parted was when an article of clothing was pulled over their respective heads. Emma, who had climbed up his body, suddenly realized that they weren't on deck anymore; they were in his dimly lit cabin. Her clothes were on the floor by her feet. Emma examined him as he moved about the room lighting a few lanterns; his eyes, his brow, his chin, his lips, his jaw. She wanted to see a twitch, something that would reveal his hand, but he wasn't giving her anything. He stepped back to her, a smirk raising his lips. His eyes met hers as he returned to being within an inch of her body. She realized that this was his hand.

His mouth was on hers again, gently pushing her back to the bed. When she felt it hit the back of her calves she fell back on top of hit. He didn't fall on top of her like she expected he would, rather, he dropped to the floor, removing her boots. She sat up, her eyes meeting his as he blindly worked her boots. Once her feet were free she lay back; he remained stoic above her, so she slid her feet up his chest and stomach, feeling him beneath his shirt.

He chuckled, removing his shirt, revealing his torso. Emma saw more tattoos, scars and recent wounds that still hadn't healed. She sat back up, meaning to trace one or more of the long scars with her lips, but he never gave her the chance. His lips found hers as he pushed her back into the covers, and instantly, everything went blank.

She wasn't entirely sure how quickly he had her stripped of every article of clothing she had on, only that it was faster than she had experienced. She ground her hips against his, against the mound beneath his trousers, eliciting another guttural moan that again went straight to her core. He leant up, so he was kneeling, pulling her into his lap. His hand slipped between their bodies, his hook glancing her side. She felt his fingers continue the work his moans had started. She gasped at the contact; his fingers were evidently skilled.

"Hook." She breathed as his fingers worked her close, only to pull away at the last second.

He would count the whimper that slipped from her as being whimper one of the evening. But she wouldn't be whimpering long in her present state, as his fingers moved to himself, undoing the ties of his pants before shrugging them down. Before the moment could part and before Emma had a chance to realize what was happening he dove inside of her. Their eyes found each other, their mouths open, both surprised at the response this moment brought about in the other. But it didn't last long as their bodies overtook; their hips working against the other, their lips finding each other. Emma found it difficult to comprehend what was happening as she reached her peak almost immediately against him.

Hook chuckled against her, not relenting and continuing to thrust high and deep into her.

"Shut up." Emma moaned, hitting his shoulder. "It's been a while."

"Well love, get used to it. You've got hours ahead of you." He smiled, his eyebrows waggling.

They remained locked together, bodies working in tandem, reaching the peak they both were desperate to achieve. The force of it made them collapse back against the bed, their breathing was heavy. They lay against each other for a few moments; their lips locked together, their hands lazily exploring the other's body before he effortlessly slid them up the bed before sliding back down her body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Her lungs were only just back to taking in oxygen at a regular rate when she felt his mouth at her core. Men had sucked her clit before, oh yes, and one or two of them had known what it was they were doing. Hook didn't just know what he was doing, he excelled. His lips, his teeth, his tongue, united as an army against her helpless nub. She had no answers for the onslaught he brought as his fingers joined the party by playing with her entrance. She grabbed at his head, fisting his hair as her hips bounced. Her body contracted, her back arched, her head slid down the bed, her jaw locked open as her orgasm hit her with a ferocity she had not been anticipating. Her heart was pounding; electricity was coursing through her nervous system. She moaned and whimpered repeatedly as she came down from her high, her body relaxing. When she finally found his eyes again, they were looking up at her sparkling, his chin resting against her pubic bone.

"Disappointed?" He smirked.

She shook her head weakly. "Not possible." She mumbled, reaching for him.

He didn't fight her, his lips finding hers. Emma groaned as she tasted herself on his lips, his tongue. She had experienced him inside of her, an orgasm (pair of) alike any other. But what his mouth had just done to her had her realizing that maybe he had been holding back. She couldn't fathom what it was going to be like to experience more of him, especially knowing he had promised hours of it. Right now however, all he was doing was torturing her. She wanted more; wanted him to touch her, wanted him inside her, wanted him to pound her into oblivion. But all he was doing was lying on top of her, his tongue probing her mouth, his hook sliding up and down her side whilst his fingers, still slick with her juices, played with her breast, playing with her nipple, nothing more (not that she was complaining or anything, hell she would happily let his skilled hands, well hand, play with her body for hours, but right now she wanted more!). With her breath restored, she felt her strength returning as well.

"I hate you." She whispered, tearing her lips away from his.

"Why?" He asked with a quizzical brow.

"Because you're torturing me, and I don't like being tortured." She responded, somewhat forcefully.

He chuckled again. "Years ago, I leant a thing or two about women from a lovely lady by the name of Scarlett. She taught me, not only, how to make a woman whimper and moan, but also how to make yourself truly memorable." He explained.

"Really? Well that Scarlett sure knew how to teach a man a thing or two about women." She retorted, flipping them over.

"Hey she didn't teach me everything." He interrupted, not fighting her as she slid down his body. "I haven't shown you the other think I know how to do with my teeth." His eyebrows waggled again – there appeared to be no stopping them.

Emma hesitated briefly, but chose to let it slide as she moved to continue what she was doing. "I just want to know one thing." She asked him.

"Anything." He breathed, his breath catching in his throat as she slid ever lower.

"Did she know how to do this?" She didn't give him a chance to respond as she lowered her mouth onto him.

His body sunk into the bed as a loud groan escaped his lips as her tongue worked his shaft and her lips slid lower. Performing felatio used to be something Emma Swan had no problem with; she even felt she was quite talented. Then she had developed an 'arrangement' with a man who was bigger than what she was used to. She didn't mind the rough sex; it had been a brilliant distraction from the life she was living at the time. What she had minded, was that whenever she slunk to her knees before him, he would grab hold of her head and force her to take him deeper than what she could. Ever since then it had been an activity that she had avoided. Now however, she was going to make full use of her 'forgotten' talent. His hips bucked into her, whilst one hand at his base controlled how much of him she took in, not allowing herself to be affected. It was his turn now to grab her head, fisting her hair as her mouth and fingers worked in perfect unison.

"Gods Emma!" He moaned as she moved her hand and took him all the way into her mouth.

With a quick flick of her tongue he came undone, with a deep guttural roar. His breathing was heavy as she lifted herself off of him, throwing her head back and gulping him down.

"Did you just...?" He stared as her eyes returned to his.

"Mmmhmm." She nodded.

He leaned up to catch her lips, bruising them with their ferocity, and flipping her over, he continued to hungrily devour her mouth. Yes, this night was _far _from being over.

"You know you're not as big as I thought." She mumbled, as his lips left hers and made their way to the hollow of her neck.

He stopped what he was doing and looked down at her. Evidently he didn't see the insult some men would have felt at the words she had just delivered.

"Well, I learnt a long time ago that I was not gifted like some men. But Scarlett made me realize that sometimes it's not about the size of the tool, but how the tool is used." He said as he simultaneously slid inside of her.

"No, not when it can make me feel like that." She moaned, arching her back, leaning up and catching his lips.

He returned her kisses eagerly. His thrusts were slow, agonizingly so. He wanted to draw this out, make her scream louder than a man ever had before. His teacher was right, size counts for nothing if you don't know how to make a woman scream, and Emma knew that to be true. And Hook was by no means tiny, hell he had more size on him then it seemed. Every time he filled her all she felt was a man who knew exactly what was necessary.

"God Killian!" She cried out as his pace gradually increased.

He paused above her, his eyes full of something that wasn't just lust. "Say that again." He commanded.

"God Killian." She breathed.

"Again."

"Killian." She whispered.

"Again." His hips thrust against her.

"Killian." She moaned.

"Again." He thrust.

"Killian." She cried.

She continued crying out his name, louder and louder, as he continued to thrust deep and hard into her. His lips slid to her neck, then up to her ears, biting down on her lobe. He felt moisture on his cheek, saw tears leak from her eyes. He didn't stop. They drove him further. Drove him harder. He pinned her arms on either side of her head as he moved faster and faster; as she came closer to her abyss, so too did he. He bit down on his lip as she clamped around him. He wasn't going to come yet, not when she wasn't anywhere near the point he wanted her to be.

"Gods Emma." He moaned, catching her lips in a lazy kiss as he fought to keep his composure, she was not making it at all easy.

It had been a long time since Emma Swan had found true pleasure in sex. She was not one to list her partners, but with most of them, it was all about the moment, it was all about the climax. She didn't need to be filled completely, and she definitely didn't need to feel love or even care for the other person. They would roll around in the bed, each getting what they needed from that moment and doing nothing, or at least very little for the other person. To do something for the other person meant care was felt, and Emma Swan knew that care had no place in the bedroom of sex for sex's sake. In fact, it had been a truly long time since a man had made a very conscious effort to pleasure her in the way that Hook was now; and back then it hadn't been anywhere near as good. It was truly disconcerting, especially as she opened her eyes and caught the look he was sending her.

His hips slowed, but did not lose their intensity, in fact if anything, with their eyes locked together the intensity only intensified. He was answering the unasked question of what it meant to care about the partner. With each deep thrust into her he was showing her what sex felt like when both parties cared, no _loved _each other. Her mind might not have the ability to comprehend that small epiphany in the present moment – hell all epiphanies experienced during sex should be taken with a grain of salt – but her body was well ahead of her. Each kiss, each caress, each bite, each whimper, each thrust, each nail that lifted flesh was screaming a truth at her that she was going to have to face soon.

But that truth would have to wait as she felt a tsunami enticing her to the coast line. She tried to keep her eyes open but it proved impossible. Her body was contorting beneath him; her legs were locked around his waist, her back arched up into him. She was reaching the point of her second climax; she could see the tsunami approaching in the distance. She wanted him to stop as something more powerful than she had ever imagined hit her. And yet, the idea of him stopping infuriated her – if he did his head was going to roll. Her jaw locked open again in a silent scream as he brought her back to that place that thus far in her life only his mouth had brought her to.

"Don't hold back; scream for me." He whispered into her ear, knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold himself back again.

"Oh God Killian." She cried.

"Louder Emma." He whispered.

It seemed that hearing her name was the trigger. A noise that she was certain was meant to be 'oh my god yes Killian' erupted from her mouth. His lips planted over hers, proving itself the final touch. They could not hold back any longer as they exploded against each other. Their bodies shining from the energy spent, their insides on fire from the energy they had both received, they collapsed against each other.

"So hours huh?" She breathed against him, after what felt like hours, whimpering slightly as she felt him withdraw from her.

He lifted his head from her neck and waggled his eyebrows. "You seem disappointed."

"Just not sure how we can keep this up." She mumbled.

His body slid sideways off of her, his chest still heaving, although nothing like what it had been. "Don't you trust me?" He growled, a sound that instantly went to her groin.

"Never." She smiled.

He chuckled, catching her lips with his, his hand sliding across her body, playing with her breasts, than sliding down her body.

"I don't think I can go again." She moaned, feeling his hand between her thighs.

"Trust me." He breathed into her ear.

She groaned as his deft fingers moved about seamlessly, he whispered her name, it sounded like a lullaby, making her feel warm, soft, protected. In that moment she knew, whatever feelings she might have for this man, this night was _not _going to be a one off. Moreover, as the night wore on and she found herself not sure if she was counting times or orgasms, she increasingly knew that this man, whilst he had burrowed beneath her defenses, was actively destroying them from the inside out. In the morning, she would allow herself to panic at what he was doing to her, but right now, she was going to do nothing more than enjoy it.

~88888~

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	3. All Greek to Me

_Part 2 of double update day!_

_please be advised there's about 2 paragraphs of smut to be found within. _

~88888~

Emma woke up to find herself unmoved from the position she had finished in. She was tucked into his side, his hook wrapped around her resting against her side, her fingers resting on his chest. She could hear the steady beat of his heart in his chest, it warmed her. Her body ached from their activities during the night but she had absolutely no mind to complain. She had never experienced a night like it. Every orgasm seemed bigger than the previous one; every touch torched her skin. He had turned her into putty, and he was the one who got to bend her into shapes she didn't think she was actually capable of. She was certain, for the rest of her life, thoughts about this night were going to always illicit a strong flush to her cheeks, an elevated heart and breathing rate, and a moisture between her legs. She was also certain, that she did not want it to be a one off. This was their first night, not their only night.

And yet she was still panicking.

What on earth happened? What did she do? She had gone outside for a walk, an attempt to find some form of tranquility that would have her able to sleep through the night. She found herself unable to comprehend the facts as they stood. If she were to stand before someone and answer their questions she would just stand there, spluttering. Her feet hadn't just taken her on some random walk around town, they had taken her to him, the smug bastard she had been avoiding. And then her mouth took over her brain functioning as she told him things she definitely should not have because they had led her here, to this moment, wrapped in his arms, naked, covered in bites and bruises that symbolized only one thing. Not only that, but she was entirely too calm about it all, other than the fact that it was morning and she was still there. She should be gone, should be out, but instead she unthinkingly snuggled closer to him, as though the idea of him vanishing petrified her. Something was very wrong with that picture.

Men did not come into her life, pound her into submission then stay in her life to do it repeatedly, by George no! Men came and went. In fact, now she thought about it, the few who had gone anywhere near Hook's level of expertise had actually been married – she was ashamed to say – or in some form of relationship that had meant there was no reason to fear the prospective future with them. The only reason for their relationship was as a distraction. She had to get out of Hook's arms, at least for a moment to catch her breath; she had to go home, grab a shower, remember what he was like beneath the sheets and then come back to him. She needed to turn this into something that she could handle, and right now, whatever this was, she couldn't even find her bearings.

The steady rise and fall of his chest against her cheek suggested that he was still asleep and she took a moment to best figure out her escape route. The only problem was that he was already awake. She opened her eyes to see his arm above his chest holding a book.

"Awake are you, Princess." He murmured; she felt him kissing the crown of her head.

In that moment, her fears were cut. She could hear the warmth in his voice, and if she were to meet his eyes, she would see him giving her the same look he had given her that had made her question gravity. All she could manage was an 'mmmm', twisting herself so she could find his lips. Why panic when she was in bed with a man who she was in love with. She paused as soon as the thought crossed her mind.

"You alright?" He asked, shifting his arm a little around her.

She nodded weakly, unsure precisely what had just happened inside her head, only knowing that it had something to do with the comfort of being trapped in his embrace. As she nestled herself back against him, she chose to deal with that thought at a later time. She looked back up at him, smiling weakly at him, finding his lips again. He put the book he was holding down on what could best be described as a bedside table, pulling her up so he could deepen the kiss.

"I'm fine, just thinking." She eventually whispered.

He raised an eyebrow at her, not a suggestive look, rather a look of incredulity. Once again he wasn't buying her bullshit.

"Seriously, I was just thinking how good this feels." She responded. "It really has been a while since I enjoyed the early morning sunshine with the man I enjoyed the night with." She looked away.

She knew he still wasn't buying it, but he nodded his head, accepting her story. She shifted herself so she was straddling him, keen to prove to him with her tongue that he had nothing to worry about (which was true). As she did she caught a glance of the book he had been reading.

"Are you seriously reading Peter Pan and Wendy?" She asked incredulously, reaching for it.

"I am." He didn't sound the least bit perturbed that she knew. "The author evidently missed a few key story points about Pan." He mused, taking it from her and putting it back on the bedside table.

"Why are you reading it?" She asked bemused, his hook tracing lazy circles on her back, and his fingers sliding up and down her sides. She could get used to waking up like this.

"Your lad seemed to think I would find it interesting. Of course he didn't tell me that I was in it. Now _that _is something the author clearly got wrong." He grinned into her.

"Just wait until you see the movie." She grinned, shifting slightly.

His hands were relighting fires inside her body and she wanted nothing more than to start this day off with the high that only he could give.

"Movie?" He questioned before her lips met his.

"Never mind." She breathed between kisses.

Eventually he pushed her away, only so that he could gaze at her face in the warm glow of the sun that filled the room, pushing a strand of hair off her cheek.

"You're so beautiful." He spoke, evidently before _he _had a chance to think.

Emma smiled, her hands sliding up to his face. She had never heard him utter any semblance of sentiment before. He hardly spoke about Milah, and he never spoke about his brother. What was more, he spoke in a way that wasn't laced with carnal lust; he wasn't trying to seduce her. It was more like he was stating a fact, much like 'the sky is blue' or 'the grass is green'. It caught her off guard, and judging by the gentle tinge in his cheeks, it caught him off guard as well.

"I just said that out loud didn't I." He spoke, his hand never leaving her face.

She nodded. She didn't feel words were necessary in this moment.

"What have you done to me, turning me into a lovesick puppy?" He chuckled coyly. It was evident he was trying to distance himself from the moment. She didn't know if she ought to feel hurt or amused by it.

"Me? What about you? I never stay until the morning; I don't see what the sun does to a man's face the morning after. I should be freaking out, but I'm not. What's so special about you that has me loving this feeling you've left me in?" She queried.

Then both of them froze, almost gaping at each other. In one minute, they had both described the affect of the other by using some form of the word 'love'. For Emma, this was too much, and a voice instantly started shouting at her to get off him, get dressed and get out of there immediately. And yet there was another voice, a strong, calm, firm voice that said 'stay right where you are, Emma Swan.' She chose to listen to it.

Hook didn't take many more moments to comprehend the moment they were experiencing; instead he pulled her roughly to him, locking their lips together. It quickly became apparent that he wasn't in the mood for much more talking as he flipped their bodies so he was on top of her. Their arms and hands resumed the exploration they had commenced the previous evening as their mouths dully battled. Eventually a need for oxygen had them parting.

Emma looked up at the man above her. He was looking down at her again with a look that simply spoke of his adoration. He found her beautiful, he found her sexy, he found her exhilarating. She knew, because she could see it in his eyes.

"What time is it?" She moaned as she felt his hand slip between their bodies.

"Does it matter?" He grinned into her neck, his mouth working in a fashion that she knew would leave a mark – one to join the countless others he had left her with.

"Just a little." She moaned before he found her lips again, his fingers tickling the skin of her inner thighs. "I have parents who will be looking for me, and there are only so many places they'll look before they start thinking I've fallen into some portal and am in great danger."

It seemed that despite everything that had happened so far this morning, the rational part of her brain was taking over. She wasn't on her own anymore, her absence from her own bed would be noticed, and given David and Mary Margaret had a tendency to respond to some of her actions like overzealous parents (which to be fair _was _hardly surprising considering they had been separated for so long), she didn't want to be gone too long before the whole town was on the lookout for her. She did not want to be caught be someone inappropriate doing the walk of shame from his ship. No, for the time being, she wanted this to be just between them; no a secret, just not public knowledge. At least not until she had spoken with all the relevant parties.

His fingers slid between her folds. "Well so far that's not going to have any bearing on my plans for the morning." He grinned into her lips.

She could feel him pressing against her; it did nothing to stifle her feelings about him, and everything to quell all thoughts of her parents. She stifled a moan as his fingers found her wet to his touch. "Yeah definitely not going to stop my plans." He grumbled, his lips catching hers.

She couldn't hold back the moans as his fingers deftly worked south of her hips whilst his lips ground at the hollow of her neck. She reached for him, mimicking his actions, he groaned throatily, a sound which reverberated through her. As the point of her peak neared he moved his hand, pushed hers away (which had been a truly pleasant experience pumping his cock), positioned himself between her and dove in. Her legs instantly wrapped around his hips, locking into place. She bit her tongue to stop herself from spewing words she could never take back, and simply rocked against him. Their bodies moved in unison, their moans harmonizing; yes she could definitely get used to mornings like this.

"Hook, get up we need your help Emma's go-"

Whatever had been about to happen, Emma knew she would never be able to look her father in the eye for some time. She and Hook had essentially frozen in place when David Nolan barged into the cabin. But whilst Emma was certain that there were places and positions that would have been by far less awkward, she had a sneaking suspicion that her father wanted nothing more than to go back in time and decided that Emma was a grown woman who could easily look after herself and didn't need people looking for her. But right now, the only thing Emma felt was extreme fury at her father as he stood before them, clearly frozen in space and time.

"If it's all the same with you, mate, I'd turn around and leave." Hook's voice broke the deadlock. "You're looking for Emma, congratulations you found her, now run along home and forget that you ever saw a thing. Emma and I will join you in forgetting this moment ever happened."

David jumped at the sound of Hook's voice, but he didn't seem to hear him. It seemed to be an impossible task, tearing his eyes away from Emma and Hook's conjoined form.

"David, go home!" Emma may as well have yelled at him, such was the carry her voice had.

"What the hell is going on here?" David finally spoke, albeit like he was in a daze.

Hook's eyebrows sagged. "I really don't think you need to _hear _the answer to that question when you can see it. Now run off home and Emma will join you later."

"David, Go!" This time Emma did shout.

David turned awkwardly and left remarkably quickly. Neither Hook nor Emma moved as they heard his footsteps disappear. When they finally turned back to one another, the air in the room had drastically changed. Emma slunk away from him, closer to the head of the bed. She wanted to escape, get out, leave, walk around town, find a shovel and dig her own grave such was the humiliation of what had just transpired, but she doubted Hook would let her go. Hook slunk a little away from her, resting on his heels at the end of the bed. Their eyes fought desperately to avoid each other.

"Well that was awkward." Hook broke after what felt like an age of silence.

"That's an understatement." Emma countered, looking at him for the first time.

"Your parents really need to learn a thing or two about boundaries."

"Ya think?" She responded with a scowl. She had been so close to having a perfect start to her morning, and now she was left wanting, seething and generally pissed that it wasn't going to happen.

He nodded, looking down. This morning had been filled with such promise, and reality had played a cruel trick. Very rarely does the happiness of the night spill forth into the daylight, he had come to observe. He should have known something like this was bound to happen.

"Well it does throw a dent in my plans for the day." He sighed, watching as she shifted to the edge of the bed.

"Mine too." She whispered, finally chancing a glance at him.

She attempted to stand up, take some control of her legs but to no avail. She wasn't sure that she was happy he was at her back, catching her.

"Take it easy, lass." He chuckled, his arm dropping over her stomach.

She wanted to hit him; she wanted to punish him for removing the use of her legs. She especially wanted to hit him given the way her brain was turning back to fuzz with the feel of him at her back. She twisted her head to face him, with the sole intention of hitting him, but her brain went truly fuzzy when she saw his eyes, peeping over her shoulder as he kissed her shoulder blade.

"I should go." She mumbled.

He stopped his ministrations to look up at her, a sad look in his eyes. "You don't have to, you can stay, we can...play some more." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"As much as I would dearly like to, David just ruined that for me. And besides, I really need to talk to him, and Mary Margaret about our boundaries." She moaned as she felt his hand return to her body. "But I really don't think I'm going to be gone long." She purred.

"I'll hold you to that." He grinned, moving so that he could catch a last taste of her lips.

~88888~

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	4. Riding Shotgun

_Yay people like me! Cheers! I have nothing else to say._

~88888~

It was a strange paradox. Snow White had learnt to get her sleep whenever and wherever possible during her years in exile. Wherever she could find a place where she was hidden, warm and dry she would do her best to get as many hours of sleep as she could before the sun would rise and she had to move on; it didn't matter if it was snowing, pouring with rain, or the middle of summer. Mary Margaret on the other hand, had no comprehension of what it meant to be sleep deprived. She had always had a roof over her head, always got eight hours, always. She didn't know what it meant to _need _her sleep, didn't know what it meant to sleep whenever she could. Two people, two completely different, unique, and yet startlingly similar individuals inhabited the one body. They didn't fight, didn't bicker, didn't claim superiority over the other, they were equal. And yet the apartment's thermostat was clearly tearing them apart over one issue, sleep. The ridiculousness of it was enough to bug Mary Margaret throughout the night, and yet it wasn't enough to keep Snow White away from her slumbering peace. The result was she would continually be waking intermittently throughout the night. David on the other hand seemed incapable of allowing anything to distract him from sleep. Clearly both David Nolan and her Prince Charming enjoyed resembling logs whilst their eyes were closed. It made Mary Margaret insanely (and ridiculously) jealous.

She and her husband had left Emma early in the night; they had 'things' they needed to do. They needed to 'discuss' their future, 'remind' themselves of the plan they had had in the Enchanted Forrest. After they had finished having a pleasurable and immensely satisfying 'conversation' they had fallen asleep, but Mary Margaret had woken not long after, unable to bear the combination of the heat in the apartment and the proximity to her husband. She sat up in the bed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She looked over her shoulder to her husband, who was lying spread-eagled on the bed, the sheet covering one leg and his hips. She found it somewhat disappointing that he was covered; she couldn't silently bask in his glory. Then she realized that if she was able to see all of him, she would likely do something to wake him up, and right now, the idea of human contact was unbearable. She exhaled, looking away. Her skin was sticky and clammy; she thought a shower might be a good idea; might also cool her down so she could get back to sleep.

Silently she shrunk into her thinnest bathrobe and crept out of the bedroom. She hoped Emma had managed to get to sleep, and the last thing she wanted to do was wake her up. She tiptoed over the floorboards, careful to avoid the one that creaked loudly. Once inside the bathroom she was met with a blast of cold air; somebody had left the window wide open. A light dusting of snow flakes was fluttering onto the window sill and the tiles beneath. She rushed to the window and pulled it shut. It was still cold, but with the warmth of the rest of the apartment invading the room through the walls it was bearable. She dropped the lid of the toilet and sat down, stretching her legs out onto the bathtub. The ceramic penetrated her skin through her robe causing her to shiver slightly. She rolled her head back, enjoying the coldness, maybe she wasn't going to need a shower to get to sleep. Still, in her pose she found her mind wandering.

Her mind didn't really wander that far these days, there was really only one topic she thought about: Emma. It was rather she would think about different aspects of Emma's life, find different questions that she thought needed to be asked (and yet a part of her knew she probably never would). She would think about Emma's past; before she knew about Neal she would think about and try to answer the question of Henry's paternity, try and work out what type of man it was that Emma had fallen in love with. The first time she had thought about it, she had started crying as she thought about her daughter finding out she was pregnant whilst nursing a broken heart. She had wanted to kill the man who had made the image of her daughter cry. But then she had met Neal, learnt the story of what really happened all those years ago. She hadn't forgiven him for abandoning her daughter, but she had realized that there was still a lot of love between them, and she believed that maybe, just maybe, Emma could find her happy ending with him.

In this moment however, she thought about what had happened between her daughter and the father of her grandchild, and the sadness that seemed to follow them. She had watched silently as Emma and Neal had gone on a date at Granny's and had sat for a large portion of the night not talking. And the few times they had, they had been awkward exchanges about Henry, what he was doing at school, how he was getting better at sword-fighting, etcetera.

"Give them time, they'll figure it out." David had said to her after she had told him about it. "Oh and you do know what Emma will say if she finds out you've been spying on her dates." He had added.

"I have not been spying on her dates!" She had angrily responded. "I was just walking past Granny's and saw them in the window."

"Yes, and then you went inside, sat in a booth near them and hid behind a menu." He had looked down his nose at her.

Mary Margaret had huffed; David had chuckled, pulling her into a hug. They both wanted her to be happy, that was undeniable. And they would have dearly loved Emma to find her happiness with Neal rather than the seeming other option who had made himself scarce since they had all returned from Neverland.

It was at this point in Mary Margaret's thoughts that a noise jolted her back to reality. It was a door closing, followed by footsteps on the floorboards. Mary Margaret doubted it was her husband and wondered what Emma was doing; she had a thought that her daughter was coming to the bathroom, but then she frowned in confusion when she heard the apartment front door open then close. Throwing on a pair of David's jeans and a t-shirt that were lying in the hamper, she left the bathroom, grabbed her coat and scarf at the door and followed her daughter.

Looking down the stairwell she caught a glance of Emma's head descending the final few steps. At a distance Mary Margaret followed her daughter, curious as to where she could be going. Despite the distance, Emma was not moving at a great pace which suggested to Mary Margaret that she was just attempting to escape the stifling heat of the apartment for a brief moment. Mary Margaret had to speed up as she saw Emma turn a corner. She slowed down at the corner, peeking around cautiously; the last thing she wanted Emma to think, no know, was that she was following her – which she was but that was an irrelevant fact in this moment. Not that far ahead of her was Emma; she had reached the docks and was staring towards the Jolly Roger. Mary Margaret had had a hunch this was Emma's destination but it was difficult to judge when the person you are tracking is not exactly displaying any trait that they know where the hell they're going (and Snow White had some experience tracking people). Mary Margaret watched as Emma considered the ship before her. She saw her turn, like she was going to head home and that induced a moment of panic when she realized that both women's tracks were still clear in the snow. She breathed a sigh of relief when she watched Emma turn back to the ship and move toward it.

She ensured she was hidden in darkness as she watched the silhouette of Emma follow Hook's around the deck, talking, and then they weren't talking. She felt decidedly awkward as she saw her daughter's silhouette climb the silhouette of the pirate. Then they disappeared below decks. Mary Margaret knew she was deeply disturbed to be curiously moving closer to the ship.

She crept aboard; she had barely travelled two steps when she heard a series of loud noises from below decks. It seemed that they were the snap her brain needed. She turned away, hearing the noises that carried in the silence and thankfully (she hoped) covered her footsteps as she departed the deck, and made an immediate decision: Emma was a grown woman who was definitely not a virgin, and she was also very capable of making her own decisions. Mary Margaret may not have approved of her daughter's current path, but she was not going to judge. Hook, for all of his faults had demonstrated a far greater sense of decency than Whale ever had, and Emma had _never _judged Mary Margaret for that decision, before or after the curse breaking.

Mary Margaret practically ran back to the apartment and found it still stifling hot. She immediately extricated herself of the unnecessary layers of clothes and made her way back to the bathroom; she definitely needed that shower now. Stripping, she stepped under the highly pressurized flow of water, rinsing the moment from her body. After a few moments, she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her and left the bathroom. She made her way into the kitchen, hopping onto one of the stools. She needed to form some semblance of a plan for the morning – that is if Emma wasn't back yet – as David would definitely notice her absence.

The easiest option was to suggest she was at the Sherriff's office '_she probably went in to escape this heat' _she could already hear herself saying. Yes that was easy. But if David wasn't convinced, and wanted to go looking for her, she _had _to ensure that he was nowhere near the Jolly Roger. Who knows what he might find – or worse see – whilst he was there. In that case, the best option was to send him off to find Neal, or Regina, or Gold or someone else, or have him look somewhere logical – Granny's, she could be meeting Henry for breakfast there – or have him check out a couple of the haunts she and Henry used to meet at before the curse broke. What was deeply fundamental was for her to get to the Jolly Roger first.

With her plan formulated she slunk into the bedroom. David was still spread-eagled on the bed snoring softly; evidently he had not noticed her absence. She sighed, momentarily thinking about crawling into the bed beside him. It seemed the thermostat had decided to issue a wave of heat in that moment, and feeling it against her skin said to her that she couldn't experience human contact again tonight. Instead she changed her mind and decided to sleep in Henry's room. It was at least more logical that he would notice her missing before he noticed the absence of his daughter. And sleeping in Emma's bed would be a dead giveaway that she knew her daughter was gone, and maybe even knew where she was. Henry wasn't in the apartment – he had made it known quite clearly that the heat in the apartment was not for him, his bed was being unused, and if David found her asleep in Henry's bed, the reason for it was far easier to explain. She grabbed one of David's softest t-shirts and moved to the smallest room in the apartment. She crawled onto the bed, went over her plan again, and then flitted off into an unsettled sleep.

She eventually woke hours later, the apartment still unbelievably furnace like. She made her way out of Henry's room and very quickly realized that she had slept a lot longer than she had hoped she would; the one part of the plan she couldn't control (and hadn't thought to) was the time. She hadn't taken into consideration what might happen if her husband awoke before her. She moved into the kitchen and sitting at the counter she saw her husband. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

For all her planning, she couldn't do anything to stop him. "David, are you alright?" She asked, noting his white face and rock hard stance. "David, what's wrong?"

But there was something about his look that made her worried; she doubted that this was the reaction he would have if he had found his daughter in a compromising position with a man whom he hated. No something else had happened in town, something very bad.

He didn't respond, didn't say anything. She moved to be in his eye line, so she could see his eyes.

"David? You're starting to scare me." She whispered, touching his face.

His head moved a fraction, his jaw clenched for an instant as he swallowed, hard.

~88888~

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	5. Flash in the Pan

_Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows. Keeps me going. There was something else i wanted to say but i can't think of it. Enjoy! __  
_

_~88888~_

When the alarm had gone off that morning, David had immediately noticed the absence in the bed beside him. However he didn't find it that unusual. It wasn't that uncommon for his wife to get up before him. Therefore, he got up, made himself decent and left the bedroom. He expected his wife to be in the kitchen but she wasn't, he couldn't hear any noise coming from the bathroom; knocking only confirmed his suspicions. He eventually found his wife in his grandson's room, sound asleep. Evidently she had moved during the night. He leant against the doorframe for a moment, watching his wife sleep with a small smile on her face. She had always looked ridiculously good when she slept. Silently he shut the door, choosing to let his wife enjoy her sleep in.

The rest of the apartment was silent which he found unusual. Emma was usually one of the first to rise in the house. Her bed was empty and looked largely unused. Her coat was also missing. He couldn't figure where she might have gone, but he assumed there were only a few places. Still, he decided for the moment it wasn't worth worrying about. He figured she had just gone into the Sherriff's office early, get an early start on paperwork. He decided he'd join her, after breakfast of course. As he looked through the fridge he tried Emma's cell phone. He found it a little unsettling that he could hear it ringing in her bedroom: that was most unlike Emma. He then tried the Sherriff's station number. The line went to voicemail; again he found it a little unsettling. He tried it again, just in case she had ducked into the bathroom, but again it went to voicemail. He left a brief message, just to get her to call him.

His breakfast hunt wasn't going so well either. The fridge search had yielded nothing, unless he fancied last night's leftovers or the cuts of lamb that were meant for that night's meal. Instead he decided he'd dash out and grab some milk and some eggs. Make something decent for breakfast; hell he may as well make some pancakes or scrambled eggs for his wife. He wrote a quick note for Mary Margaret and attached it to the fridge door. He figured whilst he was out he'd check in at the station, see if there was anything Emma needed his help with. If not, he was going to fix that thermostat.

It was on his way to the market that he stopped in at the station. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach as he saw that the building was in exactly the same state that he had left it in the night before. He tried the station number whilst he checked the building's back door. He could hear the phone ringing, but there were no lights on inside, and no sound that anyone was present. The clock tower showed the time as being a little after 8.15; he looked around, thinking where else Emma could be. And suddenly it hit him; she _must _have been having breakfast with Henry. As Granny's was only a few doors away, he figured he may as well duck in and check.

The moment he entered the diner, he realized how unlikely it was that they would still be there; Henry had to catch his bus at 8.20. As he was expecting there was no sign of Henry or Emma. He nodded at some of the dwarves as they were leaving, and noted Dr Hopper and Granny conversing with Ruby at the end of the bar. Just as he was about to leave he noticed Neal in one of the back booths. As he made his way over to the man, Henry came out of the bathroom.

"Ready to go, champ?" He heard Neal say.

"Hey David!" Henry beamed at his grandfather, speaking over his father.

Neal turned and saw his father in-law approaching them. He stood as the other man reached them. "Hey little man, we gotta go!" He said to Henry before turning to David. "Not to be rude or anything, but I really gotta get Henry to the bus." He apologized.

David nodded. "I won't keep you, but quickly, have either of you seen Emma? She wasn't in the apartment this morning." He queried as they moved towards the door.

"No we haven't. She's probably just getting an early start at the station." Neal shrugged. "Sorry, we really have to go."

"Bye David." Henry called as he slipped out the door.

David waved but he didn't feel particularly reassured. He knew Emma was an adult and there was nothing to stop her making plans without consulting anyone, but she wasn't at the station, and she wasn't meeting Henry for breakfast. David couldn't think of anything else Emma might be doing. He knew it wasn't uncommon for her to go for morning runs, but usually she would be back well before he and Mary Margaret would be awake.

"I prefer it when it's still dark; I like watching the sky get lighter as the sun gets closer." She had said to him the first morning he found her wide awake as he stumbled still a little bit asleep into the kitchen.

He moved to the bar where Archie was now talking just to Granny. For all he knew Emma was out for a slightly later run than what she normally did. Granny or Ruby usually opened up early, and Archie always took Pongo for morning walks, one of them might have seen her.

"Hey have either of you seen Emma?" He asked them both.

"She's probably just ov-"

"Over at the station." David finished Archie's sentence. "Sorry, I've already been by the station and she's not there. She goes for runs sometimes; you haven't noticed her anywhere around town, have you?"

"Sorry, haven't seen her. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation." Archie shrugged.

"I haven't been in all morning; let me get Ruby, she might have seen her earlier." Granny offered ducking into the back. Both women were back in the diner almost immediately.

David nodded, looking at Archie who had resumed his breakfast.

"Hey David," Ruby's cheery voice sounded as she emerged from the kitchen, "sorry I haven't seen Emma today. I'm sure she's just at the station." She shrugged, smiling weakly.

"Don't worry about her too much; she's an adult. And there's a bunch of different places she could be." Granny offered. "Any way, while you're here, can I get you some breakfast?"

David shook his head, tapping the counter and moving to leave.

"Hey David?" Ruby called, right as he reached the door. "A couple of days ago I saw Henry down at the docks talking to Hook; she might have gone by to see why?"

David left the diner with a frown on his face. He had absolutely no idea why Henry would have gone to see Hook. He thought about asking him before he went to school, but looking up and down the street, he knew it was too late. He headed back to his pick-up, having another look in at the station. His unease wasn't lifted in any way when he found the doors still locked.

Where else could she have gone so early? Regina's? Gold's? His trip to the market was all but forgotten. He thought about heading over to Regina's, but he doubted Emma would have gone there. The clock tower said it was nine as David turned his engine back on. No, Regina was likely at the Mayor's office by now. He thought about driving over to see her, but he figured it was too much of a long shot. He thought about dropping in on Gold; Emma might be having an early lesson. But that too he thought was doubtful. No, he decided to follow Ruby's suggestion and visit Hook. As he pulled up at the docks, he already thought it was a dumb idea.

No matter what reason it was that Henry had visited Hook, he truly doubted that Emma would choose to visit him about it first thing in the morning. Still, he was here now, it couldn't hurt.

The Jolly Roger was resting lazily against the dock. Save for a few seagulls flying overhead and making themselves comfortable about the mast and higher sails, there was no sign of any life aboard. David truly doubted that Emma would have been here, and if she had been he found it highly improbable that she would still be here, but if she was still here, he imagined that she and Hook would be above decks.

"Hook?" David called from the dock.

There was no response. David boarded, looking everything over, looking for some indication that Emma was or had been here. But everything was still, what was worse, was that there weren't even any scuff marks in the snow that powdered everything. No one was here; no one had been here.

Sighing, David was on the cusp of leaving when a noise filtered up from below. In that moment, David made a decision, one that he would forever regret.. It was unlikely that Emma was here, unlikely that she had been here, but Hook had proven himself a skilled seeker. David figured it would be handy if he got Hook to keep an eye out – hell it couldn't hurt. And any way, he strongly doubted that his daughter was in any real trouble. Still, David didn't like the man, and the sun was already shining quite high in the sky; it was time for the pirate to get up. With that in mind, David descended below decks, not even stopping when he got to the pirate's door.

"Hook, get up we need your help Emma's go-"

David lost all concept of time and space as entered the room and found the pirate _and _his daughter. He could do nothing but stare at the conjoined, flushed and highly disheveled bodies before him. This was a nightmare, a strange, evil, scary nightmare. Up until this point in his life, nothing had caused David Nolan OR his Enchanted Forrest counterpart to stand frozen in time having seen something truly disconcerting. No, seeing his daughter in bed with a man he hated – he didn't hate Hook before hand, just greatly disliked him, but he definitely did now – had definitely been the think to polarize him.

He realized they were talking to him, but their voices were nothing more than strange echo's in his mind.

"What the hell is going on here?" His voice felt coarse, like he had swallowed a couple of pounds of gravel.

But he felt the question needed to be asked. Emma was with Neal; she was in love with Neal. Hook was a footnote in their story. Adult or not, Emma knew better than to get into such a position with the infamous pirate.

"David go!" She shouted at him.

David couldn't argue. Actually he refused to argue. He had to get out of that room, had to find something very sharp and cut this newly acquired image out of his mind. His feet didn't stop until he was back in the apartment. It wouldn't be until later that he remembered he'd left his pick-up at the docks.

He sat down at the counter, unblinking, unthinking, unfeeling. He didn't hear his wife enter the room, didn't hear the fear in her voice. He didn't know anything until he felt her fingers on his chin, saw her eyes meet his. He swallowed, hard. He had absolutely no idea how to form the words to even suggest to his wife what he had just seen. Would she even believe it? No, she wouldn't, of course she wouldn't! The very idea of Emma and Hook k-k – he couldn't even think it, how was he going to say it! No, the very idea of Emma and Hook k- whatever, was absurd!

"David?" She was watching him with fear etched into her face; she was only making this harder.

In that moment the door swung open and Emma stormed in. David knew that no matter what explanation she had to offer, nothing was going to rid him of the image of her whimpering body beneath the pirate that he, now more than ever, wanted nothing more than to kill, maim, or otherwise seriously injure.

~88888~

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	6. The Cat's Out of the Bag

_I would just like to make a quick note, if you find yourself reading this and questioning some events that i'm depicting, i'm taking some (alot) creative licence. I started writing this story somewhere around 'nasty habits' and 'good form', and i don't really peruse spoiler sites that much. I will likely be making references to events that happen throughout the season, but i wont be letting them drive me or the stories direction. Keep it simple, they went to Neverland, they saved Henry, trouble ensued, they came home and their lives went back to normal. Also, i'm Australian, whilst we were keeping up to date with episodes (think lovely thoughts is last viewed episode), suddenly they've stopped, and who know's when they'll start again (yay for network programming!)  
_

_Any way, that's my ramble, back to the story!_

~88888~

Emma practically marched back to the apartment. She was livid! Not only had her father, _her father_, barged in on her and Hook, he had entered Hook's home, for want of a better term, without any form of invitation. She couldn't fathom what on earth it was that he had been thinking! Had he seriously just woken up that morning and stormed all over town looking for her? And not only that, had the fact that she was not anywhere else in town seriously been grounds for him to barge into someone else's home? She didn't even break stride as she opened the building's door and bounded up the stairs.

"What on Earth were you thinking?" She didn't stop, didn't hesitate, refused to acknowledge the look's her parents were exchanging. She could only stare at her father, dare him to contradict her. "Never mind what you saw or interrupted, just barging into someone else's home? Someone else's bedroom? Did you even think of what you might find on the other side of the door?" She demanded of him, barely even acknowledging her mother's presence.

"What's going on?" Mary Margaret stammered. She was completely shocked by what was happening. Her husband had just been looking at her as though the worst had happened, and now Emma had stormed into the apartment shouting. She found that what was happening was a blur, (although she felt she knew what it was going to clear up to be).

Emma righted herself and looked to her mother. Suddenly she saw her mother in the room properly for the first time; she was no longer a cardboard cut-out, and immediately she backtracked. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Mary Margaret scoffed. "You storm in here shouting at David for barging in on-." She stopped herself immediately.

The picture was clear, and the thing she had been most afraid of happening last night had happened. No matter what, she had no control of her husband, or any control of the plans she had made when she was sound asleep.

"He walked in on you and Hook, didn't he?" She spoke quietly.

Both David and Emma gawked at her.

"You knew?" Emma shouted.

"How did you know?" David shouted simultaneously.

Mary Margaret shook her head blushing. There were many ways daughters and parents broached the topic of boys. The part of Mary Margaret that was Snow White had always envisioned talking to her about it as she brushed her hair in her bedroom. She would be wearing a gorgeous gown, and it would be in preparation for some ball, celebrating her, celebrating her future. There would be a Prince from some distant land who would approach her cautiously, awkwardly asking for her hand to dance then they would grace the floor, awkwardly stepping on each other's feet…Snow White's image was perfect, until Regina and her curse came along and suddenly Snow White was face to face with her adult daughter who already had a ten year old. Emma was an adult, talking about boys for the first time with an adult child was a completely different task, especially when that child was a mother herself, (and none of the manuals had any advice for parenting adults). Still, right now, Mary Margaret could only blush and shake her head as she observed her husband and her daughter.

"I heard you leave last night," she admitted without looking up, "I was curious what you were doing so I followed you and saw you and Hook, you know." It was difficult to fathom which face was pinker, mother, father or daughter, such was the level of embarrassment in the room.

Silence followed, none could find the words to fill it. "You saw us?" Emma squeaked.

"I left before I saw anything, but I acknowledged that you're an adult and can make your own decisions." Mother rushed, finally looking up at her daughter.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me." David breathed, head in his hands, looking at his wife.

"Tell you what?" She scoffed staring at her husband incredulously. "Hi Honey, I just watched our daughter making out with the Pirate you don't approve of and I don't like, but I'm okay with it?" She was looking squarely at her husband. "And besides, you were asleep."

"Yeah, and then I woke up." He contradicted.

"Only to find me asleep and then you clearly went all crazy dad when you couldn't find Emma anywhere, and now you're here." She pointed at the way he was still sitting, clearly uncomfortable.

"I did not go all crazy dad; I went out to buy some milk and eggs to make some breakfast and I assumed she would be at the station so I stopped in on my way there only she wasn't there, she hadn't been to Granny's, no one had seen her, and Ruby suggested I try Hook because Henry had visited him a few days ago." David retorted.

"Why did Henry visit Hook?" Mary Margaret asked, it was clear both had forgotten Emma was standing a few feet away from them as they bickered.

"I don't know; I never got a chance to ask." David shrugged, shoulders high.

"Enough!" Emma shouted, breaking her parents bickering.

Emma meanwhile had been standing near her parents not really listening to them bicker. She was a little too distracted by the embarrassment inside her head than she had ever experienced. She was unable to comprehend the facts as they stood. Her mother had followed her out of the apartment last night; her mother had seen her making out with the Pirate, who knows what else her mother had seen, or heard! And her father! Her father, who knows what he had heard and chosen to ignore, but he had _seen_! She found it difficult to comprehend the fact that her parents had found out about her and Hook before she had even really acknowledged it herself – there's not much one can acknowledge when one is engaged in some serious sexual activity. But despite that, she was also immensely relieved that her mother, despite her known dislike for Hook, wasn't judging her for spending the night with him. Still, she couldn't hide the embarrassment, (and her parent's bickering was becoming a little tedious).

"I'm sorry Emma." Finally David found the strength to address her, looking sheepishly at his wife.

"I'm sorry too." Mary Margaret added.

"Sorry, doesn't even begin to cover it." Emma looked to both of her parents, focusing on her father. "But what the hell were you thinking when you consciously decided to open that door?" She was back to being angry rather than embarrassed. "You wanted to talk to Hook, that's fine, but why didn't you knock? Why didn't you acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, he was still in bed?"

David rubbed his eyes, exhaling loudly. "I don't know!" He could see her anger; she had the same angry face as her mother. "I woke up and you were gone and I couldn't find you anywhere in town." He attempted, forcibly. "My desire to see you safe overwhelmed my ability to honor Hook's privacy." He said weakly.

"David, I'm an adult." She had a strong feeling that the likelihood of calling him 'Dad' anytime soon flew out the window the moment he stormed into that cabin. "You can't know where I am every minute of the day. I'm not a child. I know you guys missed out on raising me, and I know you're trying to catch up, but the obsessive parenting thing, that's not going to fly." She was staring at him, completely at a loss as to his mental decisions.

Then she turned to her mother. "Mary Margaret you saw me leave last night; what was your plan for this morning?"

Mary Margaret turned from her husband to her daughter. "I knew if you weren't here, that David would notice you missing. I figured that I would send him off to the station to look for you, and I would head over to where I figured you still would be. I don't know; I probably would have sent some form of smoke signal or something, discreetly letting you know that I knew where you were, and that your father was looking for you. I hadn't really thought that part through." She spoke faster and faster. It was clear that her plan had only accounted for distracting David, not for getting Emma's attention.

"I'm sorry." David said again, causing his wife and daughter to look at him. "I truly do not know what it was that I was thinking when I opened that door. And I swear, it won't happen again." David looked at her, but his eyes didn't meet hers. It seemed the moment they came anywhere near her face they darted off to look at her ears, or her neck. To be honest, Emma wasn't really that put off by it.

Emma could hear the plead in his voice; he was desperate for her to forgive him. But she knew she wasn't going to be able to forgive him anytime soon. He had walked in on her having sex with a man he had never displayed any form of care or acceptance for. To him, Hook was an obstacle, a needless footnote in Emma's life, someone who had spent multiple lifetimes holding onto a relentless anger that had seen him burn everything and anyone he came into contact with. He was not a hero, he was a villain, and no matter how many times he saved the lives of the people he cared about, he was never going to be good enough for his daughter. But Emma knew that the only way her father's opinion of Hook was going to change, was through her. That was her hope. Pity it was now ruined.

"What are you going to tell Henry?" Mary Margaret asked quietly, interrupting Emma's thoughts. "What about Neal?"

Suddenly everything in this moment became overwhelmingly real. Emma heard the two names, the two men in her life that any form of romantic attachment she had affected. Henry, her son, the best thing in her life, and Neal, his father, who no matter what had happened throughout the past decade she still had clear and unresolved feelings for. If last night with Killian – wow, she certainly had strong feelings for the guy if she was suddenly thinking about him using his actual name, but that was a thought for another day – hadn't happened, she would still be staring at Neal's face over ice cream at Granny's making awkward small talk about their son. Strange as it might sound, last night made her realize that her feelings for him were steeped in the past. That's where their relationship was in the past, that's where it belonged. She needed to see him in the present to realize that, to move on. She realized that every 'relationship' she had had in the past decade she had been unable to comprehend or deal with properly because they had never properly ended. They had been a couple in love, about to move forward onto the next phase of their relationship (and soon to learn that they were going to have a baby) when the police and a jail cell had intervened. He wasn't there when she had Henry, wasn't there when she got out, wasn't there as she fought to reclaim her life once she was back in society. But she had needed to face him; face her feelings and the unresolved issues he had left her with. She realized she had done that the moment she realized that Hook was not at the diner that night. Neal was her past, Killian – yeah that was a little weird – was her future.

But what was she going to tell them about Hook? Emma looked to her mother. Honestly, those were two questions she hadn't thought about at all. She had to tell them both, she knew that was a given, but what? What was she going to tell them? How could she tell Neal that she had spent the night with another man? She had to tell him something; but she knew that no matter what, she was effectively – and finally – ending it with him.

And what about Henry? He had been truly excited when he learnt that his parents were 'together'. And even then it was hard to describe what they were. They hadn't been on any dates; they hadn't confessed any real feelings to each other. All they had done was have a handful of short conversations – all about Henry – and have one rather large argument. She had a feeling that no matter what happened with Neal, Henry wouldn't really be to hurt by it, so long as she was honest with him. That was his big thing with her, honesty. She doubted it was going to be quick for her to forget how he had looked at her when he discovered that Neal was not only Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin's long lost son, but also his father who was very much alive (and not the brave fireman she had told him he was). Yes she had to tell Henry the truth about Hook; and Neal, she could only tell a version of the truth.

After what felt like an eternity she looked up at her mother, sighing heavily. "I can only tell them the truth." She spoke simply. "I'm not in love with Neal; I haven't been _in _love with him for some time."

"Do you love Hook?" Her mother interrupted quietly. "Sorry, that was too much." She backtracked immediately. "But do you?" She was speaking quickly, and Emma knew that was a sign that she was nervous.

In the few months that Emma had gotten to know Mary Margaret as her mother she had observed a couple of small differences between the friend that she made and the mother that she really was. Mary Margaret was the first _real _friend Emma had had. She had been caring, kind, and completely non-judgmental about Emma giving up Henry and then her reasons for coming back into his life. Mary Margaret with the memories of Snow White however was ridiculously nosy when it came to anything and everything related to Emma. It was like she couldn't hold anything back with her, always prying, always searching. This was one of the moments where Emma hated the overly familiar relationship she had with her mother.

"Mary Margaret." David's voice was a warning to his wife and broke Emma's thoughts.

"Sorry, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to." Mary Margaret relented, although it was clear she desperately wanted her too.

"I don't know." It was the truth. There had been many a moment during the night where she had found herself considering the intricacies of the human heart and how hers had beaten faster in recent times when Hook was around; how she had bitten her tongue on a few occasions during the night to stop herself from spilling those three powerful words. "I care about him, a lot." She finally managed. No, she was definitely _not _telling her mother the truth – there would be no end to _that _conversation.

"Well you need to tell Neal and Henry, and the sooner the better." Mary Margaret was beaming at her daughter. "You can't start anything with Hook before you do."

"I think it's a little late for that." David mumbled, once again wiping his eyes.

Emma could only stare at her father. "You can't look at me can you?" She asked him quietly. It was meant as a question, although it sounded more like a statement.

David looked over his shoulder at her. "Can you?"

Emma looked to her feet, realizing one key fact. She needed to spend some time away from them, and they needed to spend some time away from her. It was the only way that they could move forward from this point, the only way that they were all going to be able to process the night's events. She would go and spend a few nights at Granny's, her parents could have the apartment (it was her mother's after all), and Henry could go and stay with Regina. She knew Regina would like that, have an extra few days with her son.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think we all need a few days away from each other." She said not looking up.

"No, Emma, that's not necessary." Mary Margaret attempted, but her husband didn't give Emma any chance to respond.

"No, Mary Margaret, it is completely necessary." He stood up. "It will be good, for all of us to get a little bit of space." He looked to his wife. "We can spend a couple of nights at Granny's, Emma can have the apartment."

"No, David, if anyone should spend a few nights at Granny's it should be me." Emma spoke over his protestations.

"And what about Henry?" He retorted.

"I was actually thinking he could spend a few days at Regina's. I know Regina will be happy about that." Emma admitted.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Mary Margaret asked, apprehension dripping from her body.

"Yeah, I am. I trust her." Emma met her mother's gaze squarely.

Once again the room fell into silence, only this time, it was infinitely more comfortable than before. It was David's turn to end it.

"Well if that's all done, I'm going to get to work trying to fix the thermostat." He pointed at the heater in the room, as though to be clear what he was doing. It was clear he was desperately trying to move away from this topic of conversation.

"Hey David," Emma began as her father moved away from her, "can you promise me something?"

David chose to look at her midriff as she spoke. "Anything." He said weakly.

"Promise me, next time, you'll knock." A charge filled the room as both Emma and David's faces once again flushed a shade of magenta that rivaled Ruby's cloak.

"I promise." David smiled, before quickly turning away, but he didn't head towards the heater, he headed for the door.

Emma sighed, as he left the room. It was now just her and her mother. She had a look on her face that said she wanted to talk more about what had just happened, to fight her on her decision to let Henry stay with Regina for a few days. Emma was keen to avoid it; she'd done enough soul searching in the past few minutes, she didn't want to do anymore.

"I'm gonna take a shower." Emma pointed towards the bathroom, and made to leave the room, she was keen to go before her mother could speak.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret called before her daughter was too far away. "If you do love him, trust me, neither David nor I shall stand in your way. We both understand the power of True Love." With that she followed her husband out of the room leaving Emma alone with her thoughts, staring at the empty door.

~88888~

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	7. Of Mice and Men

_So i've found myself a little distracted recently. That god-damn final episode is the main reason for it. Ah the feels! And so help me lord of the pancake i shall slaughter eddy and adam if hook and emma _dont _get together. All that set up and they tear them apart, oooo you shall see things fly. _

_So that's that mini-rant, and if i'm left to go on longer it shall be longer than this chapter itself!_

_Any ways, this is a chapter, i've got the next one ready to go in the next day or so, it's just the one after that that's proving difficult. But again, that's all sidetracking from what is really important, which is this chapter!_

_~88888~_

His day had started off so well. He had a beautiful woman in his bed, who was quickly on a path to returning to the whimpering mess she'd been overnight, the sun was shining, and he'd had a plan for the day: keep the beautiful woman in bed as a whimpering mess. It was a simple, glorious plan well on its way to being true. Then His Royal Intrusion David Nolan, had to barge in to destroy the blissful image, and essentially drag the beautiful woman away. Watching her leave he had been seething. He was almost tempted to grab her hand as she kissed him one last time, pull her down and say 'to hell with him', forcing her to stay and remain his, but he thought better of it. It would not do to force her to do anything; she had already shown him that she didn't need to be forced, coerced or bribed into coming to him, not when she would come willingly. He could only sigh as he watched her dress and leave, promising to return.

No, he definitely didn't need to force her to be his, she already was.

Still, afterwards, he honestly wasn't sure if he found the whole thing of being caught in bed with the Prince's daughter to be a hugely embarrassing moment or just simply hilarious. At the time he'd found it hilarious: he was on top of her, her legs were wrapped around his hips, her body hanging off him, nails digging into his flesh as she clung to him in the throes of their passion. There could be no doubt what they looked like they were doing. He had wanted to laugh at the look on the bastard's face as he stared, frozen in place at the two interlocked figures, his daughter and the pirate. He had to admit, if _he _had a daughter (fingers crossed he'd never fathered a bastard) seeing her entangled with another man would have been a sight he never wanted to encounter. Still, it hadn't intruded his mind as he fought the laughter. He wanted the man out, wanted him to have never approached the threshold of his cabin door; there was a woman beneath him that desperately needed finishing, and it was mostly for her benefit that he wanted the man to disappear. But afterwards, the laughter at the situation had been replaced by something else. He had found himself dwelling on the embarrassment of the situation, but he realized that it was mostly for Emma's benefit.

I mean think about it, a man walked into a room to find the woman that was genetically his daughter, socially his friend, and who acted like his sister in bed with a man who socially and spiritually he greatly disliked. Hook hoped that David didn't despise him, (although he figured he might now) especially after everything that had happened in Neverland. Still, that didn't have to mean that Hook liked _him_, no in those few moments, he hated him.

Still, the whole ordeal had left him with a smile on his face. "Just try and keep me away" she had said as her body disappeared into the daylight. He'd been sitting on the bed, watching her dress – a strange sight to be sure – and then watching the vacant space she had left. Oh yeah, he was a fool, back in the place he had been with Milah, back in the place he had been before his Naval days. He was a lovesick puppy dog unable to wait for the woman to return to him. Then his smile faltered.

Lovesick? Had he really just thought of himself as lovesick? (Had he really called himself a lovesick puppy to her face?) Sure he fancied Emma, sure he cared about her, had feelings for her, but was he in love with her? Hell no! He'd felt love, felt the satisfying warmth that filled your soul when that other person came into your life. But he'd also felt the cold burn as they were ripped away.

Milah's death hadn't just burnt him in the moment Rumplestiltskin had plunged his hand into her chest and crushed the red orb in his grasp, it had burnt him for years afterwards. He'd been unable to see straight, unable to think straight. He was driven almost to the point of insanity trying desperately to find a way to destroy the man who had destroyed his happiness. And all it had left him with was a hollow emptiness in the very pit of his soul. Emma had swung into his life like the ore from a blacksmith's forge. He saw her as a conquest, a notch to his belt. She was ridiculously attractive and ridiculously stubborn. She would not yield to him. And he tried ever harder to induce her. That night in Neverland, he had not expected her to kiss him, had not believed that she would. Sure he hoped she would, fantasized about what her mouth would taste like, what her tongue would feel like against his. And it was nothing compared to the reality which left him with a feeling of wholeness he hadn't felt in years. Not the wholeness of love, just the wholeness a single person has before they have ever felt love's cruel sting. And it had only grown since then. But this feeling now, this had him in a place he never thought he would return to. He looked down at his lap where his arms were lying and saw the tattoo on his forearm. He didn't stroke it, didn't touch it, didn't do anything, just stared at it.

For some reason, he thought the 'a' in her name was smiling at him, as though she was happy for him. Maybe it was time to move on.

He fell back on the bed with a heaving sigh, unable to believe what his mind was saying to him. He was not in love with Emma Swan, not yet at least. But he chose to think instead about how he came to be in this position.

She had come to him, finally, and spent the night at the complete mercy of his touch, a slave to her own desires. And come the morning she hadn't run; hadn't expressed disgust with herself for what had happened – which was usually what happened when a woman awoke in his arms who he had no claim on – and above all, had demonstrated absolutely no regret. Even when the hapless oaf that was her father interrupted them, she hadn't let anything enter her mind and whisper sweet nothings at the mistake she had made. He smiled remembering her look from a few minutes earlier as she had left: want, need. No, he didn't love her, she didn't love him (he refused to acknowledge their brief conversation where both used the term 'love') and despite that, she was his. The only reality that came with her father was that she had a life that she couldn't disappear from, no matter how much she may have wanted too; it was the reality of the morning.

But she had left him alone, his blood still pulsing with energy, and despite his musings, they weren't enough to douse the fire. It wasn't that uncommon for him to think about her in recent times as he saw to his own pleasure, only now, it wasn't fantasy of what she _might _look like naked, what she _might _feel like around his cock, what she _might _taste like; no now he had the reality of her hips and his beating in unison, of her milking him with the muscles only he could touch, and her mouth, oh that glorious mouth! He groaned as the thought pushed him over the edge and then, as he cleaned himself up, it took root in his mind, tormenting him; he was definitely going to have to get her to do that again.

What had followed was an energy that he had not felt in some time. He dressed and headed above deck. Despite the fluttering of snow that dusted the ground, the sun was shining surrounded by a glorious clear blue sky. He quickly saw to some of the rigging, and then departed the ship. Only this time, his absence was not to find the nearest tavern that could restock his rum supply, this time he was off to find his mates; his crew.

Oh he didn't care that a spot of honest pirating was not really a possibility in this new world, but hey, those men were his friends, his brothers, and he'd been avoiding them for too long. And honestly, it did not take him long to find them.

It seemed that during the years of the curse his crew had become new men, sort of. They were all clean, clothed, and well toothed. It was an odd sight. Whilst the curse may have removed their desire to pillage and plunder, it hadn't removed their love of all things rum. When the curse had lifted they had found each other in the one place they had in common, the pub. All had been melancholy about their missing leader, and had attempted to find some form of replacement, to no real success. Their melancholy had only been entrenched when their Captain returned and had not sought them out. Seeing the Jolly Roger docked had only darkened their moods. Some had sought him out, shouting abuse at him for avoiding them. But as he entered the bar, and approached them with a smile on his face all negative thoughts they had about him were promptly forgotten.

His crew members were delighted to see him; it had been too long for many of them to go about without their Captain, and it did not take him long to fall into the patterns he had had in the past with most of them. It seemed that most of them had been given cursed identities akin to their trade as a Pirate; most of them had become petty thieves during those damned 28 years, but one or two of them – Hook noted that it was those who were marginally nobler – had been granted other identities; young men attempting scholarly pursuits, or stuck back at home with their parents in largely dull existences.

He was quickly back in the spirit of being a jolly pirate. He was surrounded by his crew, there was laughter, cheer and general merriment as they all regressed to the men they once had been. Their drinks sloshed down their fronts and spilt down their throats. Hook had spent years forgetting certain aspects of his life, but now, it seemed he was in a place where he could remember again.

He was downing the remnants of his beer when his drink, which up till this point had avoided his shirt, sloshed down his front as one of the bar's fellow inhabitants bumped into him. Hook turned to face the person responsible for him spilling his drink and came face to face with a buxom blonde reeking of tobacco and leaving nothing to anyone's imagination.

"Oooo the famous Captain Hook, I was wondering when you'd return." She attempted to purr.

Hook wasn't sure if the smoke that accompanied it came from her mouth or just emanated from her skin. He eyed her as he wiped his chin. There was no doubt that Storybrooke was not the world for her. The fabric covering her ass was tiny over tattered fishnet stockings, and the cloth of what could best be described as her top was at best, merely there to convey the sense that she wasactually wearing clothes. Hook attempted to imagine her in the guise of one of the Enchanted Forrest's many whores. She could have been one of any, and she was making a strong case that the tavern-whores of this world had much better luck in their old.

"Come my dear Captain, it's been too long since you pillaged my waters." She slurred leaning into his ear.

Hook doubted she had waters that he had ever been tempted to pillage. Having said that, in another life he may, _may_ have been enticed. Definitely if he'd encountered her years ago, before Milah, before he believed in what love felt like, he would likely have been a happy customer, probably. But right now, he wasn't even remotely interested in what the blonde had to offer. He already had blonde.

"Some other time, perhaps." He carefully avoided her as he sidestepped her; the talons at the end of her fingernails were causing his rear to tremble.

She pouted over-dramatically as he stepped away from her.

"Still the darling everywhere he goes!" His first mate chortled, handing him another tankard of yellow liquid, approaching him from the bar.

"Tis the price I must pay for being this pretty." He quipped before downing another mouthful of the watery liquid. "You'd know a thing about it if your mother had known better than to bed your father." The men all chortled. His first mate grumbled as he too downed some more of his beverage.

The Rabbit Hole was a dark place. The bar was the brightest part of the room and it caused its inhabitants to blink furiously as they collected their drinks. It was a place where night-time ruled; the sun never rose for its patrons. So when the main door opened during the daylight hours, it usually caused every patron to glance at the cruel soul reminding them of the heinous existence that was their lives. Hook was one of the few who didn't look to the door. Every soul in Storybrooke knew who he was, and most of them feared him; he was the feared Captain Hook, he never stopped until his enemies were destroyed. He had nothing and no one to fear in this town. His history with Gold and the Mayor's mother notwithstanding, most of the inhabitants of Storybrooke kept away. Still that didn't stop the surprise of having his shoulder tapped, turning around, and barely seeing the guy before his left cheek stung and his mouth turned to metal.

"What is it with you and taking what's not yours?" It was Neal.

His drink was spilt all over the floor. He spat the metallic taste he had so rarely experienced, and which he had never particularly liked to the floor. But as much as he wanted to defend himself, there was something that was holding him back.

"How many wives have you been with? How many mothers?" Neal shouted roughly at him, pushing the other men off of him as they stormed to their Captain's defense.

"I would dearly like to defend myself, but I really don't think you're going to like the honest truth." Hook responded, wiping his lip, finally looking up at the man before him.

"Seriously?" Neal spat, managing to shake off every man that had come at him. "You took my mother away from me and now you're taking my son's? And you're not gonna say anything? When I found that picture of my mother you didn't lie to me. But now, you're gonna hold out on the truth?" He stared incredulously at the pirate.

Hook stepped closer to him. Emma was something very new for him, something he had no interest whatsoever in discussing with his crew listening in intently. And as much as he wanted to not say anything about it, he knew that Neal was not going to leave until he did. He had a feeling that whatever Neal knew, Emma hadn't been the one to share it with him. And a part of him acknowledged that whatever taunting he wanted to do to the man he couldn't do it. But he had to say something. And strangely enough, the words he found, sounded remarkably similar to the ones he had used years earlier to the boy, only this time, they were not out of desperation.

"I didn't pursue her, if that's what you're implying." He whispered, stepping closer than he needed too. "She came to me. I hadn't seen her since we got back from Neverland. But what I will definitely say is that she's an adult, as are you. I strongly suggest you go talk to her." He spoke so quietly that only Neal could hear.

"Oh and it would do well to remind you that she's nothing like your mother." He added in an undertone.

As much as he wanted to keep the petty arguing at bay with Neal, he couldn't resist that little stab. He had to do it.

Neal's reaction was what he had expected as he went to hit Hook again, but the men surrounding the pair caught him before his knuckles even graced the air touching the other man's face. "You bastard, don't talk about, get off me, I'll kill you!" The man stammered and shouted as he was thrown out of the bar.

Hook winced as he heard the thud of Neal's body hitting the pavement before the door slammed shut. Neal was a mixture of many things. Hook remembered the child, Baelfire, who'd had a strength and determination inside of him that could only come to a child through parental abandonment. Neal had grown to be as stubborn as an ox. Hook did not doubt that he was a smart man and a great father to his son, but he had forgotten that you cannot claim someone as yours when that other person was not reciprocal. Hook had watched Emma and Neal interact in Neverland. He had watched a couple encounter awkwardness. They did not embrace, did not demonstrate any great partiality, Emma especially. She was all about the mission: save Henry, save Henry, blah, blah, blah and don't let anything stand in your way.

When he and Neal had been trapped by the shadows in Dark Hollow she had shouted _his _name, not Neal's. She had expressed relief that _he _was alright, not Neal. When Neal had slipped off the cliff she had been petrified, but it was Hook she smiled at when Neal was safe, even though it was only fleeting. Hook at the time had taken the moment as being one of thanks, like what had happened in Dark Hollow. Looking back on it now, he shouldn't have been surprised when Emma came to him last night – rather he should have been surprised that it took her so long.

One of the barkeep's came up to him with a pack of ice wrapped in a towel for his face. Honestly, he didn't think he was going to need it; he had a blonde who he was certain, would willingly make him feel better later.

"Still the darling everywhere he goes." His first mate piped up after a few beats, shaking his head with amusement. Hook glanced at him, watching as he chuckled behind his drink.

"Oh shut up." Hook threw the empty bowl of nuts from the table at him.

~88888~

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	8. Stealing My Thunder

_Merry Christmas one and all!_

_Wherever you may be may your day be jolly, happy, you get all the gifts you wanted, and the receipts for all the ones you dont!_

_Now my present for you, not one, not two, but three (that's right three! no substitutions, exchanges or refunds!) new updates! I figured this day was a great day to have you staring blankly at your screen of whatever device you are reading this on. (Also because the second chapter had a clear thematic shift and needed to be respected with the division of chapters. You may notice they're a little shorter than the rest, but i do hope you'll forgive me for it :))  
_

_Now, on with the show!_

~88888~

For the first time in years Neal was happy. It was real, it was true. His smile was effortless, easy, un-fucking-bridled. He hadn't felt this good in years. He could feel himself practically skipping around town. And it was all thanks to them, his family, and especially her. He had something that he'd waited a decade for, something that he'd missed out on, something that under no circumstance was he ever going to lose again. No, he hadn't lost her a decade ago, he had left her; no not even that was right, he let her go. A crack, in the form of a supposed guardian angel had come between them, and in the space of five minutes his relationship with Emma Swan was done. There were moments in the past decade when Neal had found himself wondering whether it still could have happened, could she still have saved everyone if he was still in her life? He hoped so. But instead he let the fear of his father's existence in this world paralyze him, and he chose to blame it on _her _destiny, rather than acknowledge the real reason.

But he should have known it wouldn't matter. His father was a force that could not be stopped. He should have known that no matter what happened with Emma and the curse, the moment his father got his memories back he would find him, and that wasn't an 'if'. Ten years he had spent wondering the continent, criss-crossing places, never staying more than a few months. August found him in New York after he'd only been there a few weeks. He should have left then, should have gone back upstairs and packed his bag, gone to Chicago, or maybe found a way to get on a plane and go to Europe. But he hadn't, he turned down the street and met Tamara. He should have known he was making a mistake.

But none of that mattered now because he was here, in Storybrooke, the same town as her, and he was seeing her every day. And not only was he seeing her, he was seeing Henry.

Oh boy was that a kick in the chest. Ten years he'd believed he'd left her alone; ten years he'd blamed himself for losing happiness. Then that little boy walked into his living room and called her 'mom'. Those ten years of mourning the past hit him like a train hits a deer in darkness. He was furious, he was seething, and none of that anger was at her, it was all at himself. What type of a fucking idiot leaves his girlfriend when she's pregnant? Then a horde of new questions filled his mind; when did she find out, was that why she was so keen for them to settle down, did she even know? In that moment that Henry shouted his age, Neal knew that if he had known Emma was pregnant there was no way in hell that he was going to leave her behind, no way in hell that August and his words were going to separate them. He and Emma would have been together, a family, and family doesn't leave family behind. He was going to be there for that kid in the way that his father never could.

Destiny it seemed was a truly cruel mistress.

Thus, he was going to spend the rest of his life making up for his absence. He was going to be the best father in all the worlds, he was going to make his son proud, and he was going to make _his_ father squirm. And Emma, well, he was going to spend the rest of his life making her believe that he loved her, no matter what. And if she believed that she loved him, then he was going to make her the happiest woman alive. No one was going to question their happiness; no one was going to interfere. They were going to get married, (and when the time was right, maybe have one or two more kids) and live their happily ever after. In years to come, people would be telling _their _children stories about the great love of Emma Swan and Neal Cassidy.

Sure she had been a little distant lately, but it had been a week. They had returned from Neverland and finally had to deal with all the awkwardness between them that they had put aside on that godforsaken island. They had both been required to tell each other (and everyone else) very private facts about each other, facts that ordinarily, they never would have shared. There was a requirement amongst all couples when these types of facts were shared – especially in the beginning – that there be a brief period of awkwardness. Hell, it had taken her almost two days before she was able to properly look him in the eye again. But he was certain it was getting better.

Not even that argument they had had about her learning magic was going to intrude. One step at a time, slow and steady. Neal might have been impatient in waiting for her, but he knew he had no right to demand anything of her. No, where she was concerned, he was as patient as a clam. Everything was going to work out.

Then he saw her gazing at the Jolly Roger one afternoon. He saw the glaze in her eyes of someone staring off to space, and put it down to simple coincidence, but he had caught her shortly after as they were walking away, looking over her shoulder at the ship. The jealous voice that had whispered sweet nothings to him in Neverland as he saw her interactions with Hook raised its ugly voice. But he wasn't going to listen to it. 'She's with you; she _chose _you' he would say to himself, plastering a smile on his face as she would look at him with concern. No way in hell was he going to voice _those_ demons to her. He had just got her back in his life, that was a sure fire way to push her away.

And then came this day, and looking at the calendar, it could only happen on Friday the 13th.

Neal had awoken early. His room at Granny's was getting a trite constricting. He had made the decision to get his own place the night they returned from Neverland. He realized he was needed in this town, and he wanted his own space; his own bedroom, his own kitchen, and most importantly, a room for Henry. He wanted to at least have looked through the paper at the apartment listings before he met up with Henry for breakfast.

Whilst seeing Emma might have been the highlight of his day, Henry was quickly becoming his world in a way he could not imagine. He loved that kid more than he truly thought possible. He especially loved studying him; seeing his little quirks and identifying who he got them from. Hot chocolate with cream and cinnamon was definitely from his mother, but the way he cut up his food with his cutlery was definitely one from him. Neal had gotten distracted gazing at his boy again when he realized how little time they had before Henry had to get to school. David's presence had almost meant that they had missed Henry's bus, but it had piqued Neal's interest.

Sure Emma had a life outside of her family – that life being work – but Neal still found it interesting that she was 'missing'. Still, once he had Henry on the bus he figured he may as well check out a few places to see where she might be, he needed to talk to her anyway. Still, he didn't get a chance to look at many places when he saw her storming along the sidewalk. And storming he thought might have been putting it lightly such was the way she moved along the pavement. Her pace was frightening, it was clear she was in a hurry, but he didn't bother speeding up to catch her. What he needed to talk to her about wasn't important, so he kept up his plodding pace. Despite the snow that littered the ground the morning wasn't particularly chilly, but in the shadows of the buildings, it was quite cool. Neal figured she was just moving fast to keep warm and get out of the cold.

He was on one of the buildings lowest steps when he heard shouting. He looked up at the floors above him wondering where it came from. In the short time he had been in Storybrooke he had acknowledged one firm thing, domestic disturbances didn't happen. At least, if they did, people were smart enough to keep out of the way, as the people involved in the disturbances often had questionable histories. Still, it didn't stop Neal from climbing the stairs. When he reached the floor that housed the Charming family he heard raised voices echoing through the walls. He wondered what could make the family shout at each other in the way that they were. But then everything went silent. Slowly he approached the door, but he froze when he heard Emma's voice. Did she just say she was in love with him? Wait, what was she saying?

Neal knew that eavesdropping on his girlfriend and her parents was definitely not something he should be doing, but he desperately wanted to hear what was going on.

"...you love..." Mary Margaret's voice was muffled through the door.

He had been creeping ever closer, desperate to get his ear to the keyhole, and suddenly he froze in place. He desperately wanted to hear Emma's response whilst another part of him was petrified of what it would mean if he did. He couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't breathe. There was no way in hell he was going to miss what Emma had to say. He wanted to cut out David's tongue when he heard him speak, furious that he might be talking over his daughter. But then he heard Mary Margaret's voice again and he realized he hadn't missed Emma's response. He exhaled heavily as he finally reached the door.

"I care about him allot." He finally heard Emma respond.

His heart leapt in his chest. It didn't matter if she didn't say those three little words to her mother; he could hear it in her voice. She was in love with him. They did have a future, they would be together; this was a happy ending for the ages. He fought the urge to barge in and declare his undying love for her, (remember what happened to guys caught eavesdropping on their girlfriends?). Barging in was definitely going to ranker her. But still, he wanted to tell her that he was sorry for leaving her, he wanted to tell her that he never stopped loving her, and he wanted it to mean more than a dying man's last words. He wanted to kiss her and hug her, tell her with his soul that he would never leave her again. She was his family, and family stayed together, protecting each other, garnering strength from each other.

"You need to tell Neal and Henry, the sooner the better." Neal's happiness was suddenly jolted by Mary Margaret's voice.

There was something in her tone that was unsettling to him. It was the tone of a mother advising her daughter, not encouraging her. It was a tone that chilled Neal's blood. The daydream of him and Emma getting married, her in white, him in a tux, Henry being page boy was suddenly in extreme danger. Neal was suddenly petrified that he _wasn't _being discussed in the next room. There was something about the way his mother in-law said his name that had rocked him to his core.

"You can't start anything with Hook before you do." Mary Margaret continued.

"I think it's a little late for that." David's voice sounded and it was like a knife to Neal's chest.

And just like that the fantasy was destroyed. They weren't talking about him; _they weren't talking about him_. Everything was being ripped away from underneath him. It wasn't possible, not now, not again. That bastard had already destroyed his childhood, his past, and now he was destroying his present, his future. But what was worse were those words from David: 'it's a little late'. Emma wasn't just thinking of starting something with Hook, _she already had!_ For the first time in years Neal wanted to bawl his eyes out like child. He wanted to punch and maim Hook, destroy him. The fantasy Neal had just been enjoying no longer featured him; it was Hook in the tux, Hook putting the ring on her finger, Hook kissing her tenderly beneath the rose covered arch, Hook growing old with her. Every hope and dream he had been silently harboring since Emma and Henry came into his life were now lying in tatters at his feet.

He couldn't stay, couldn't hear anything else, he already knew everything he needed to. He didn't care how loud he was as he rushed the stairs, fighting to keep his emotions in check. It wouldn't do for someone to see him in this state. It would come back to Emma, she would know the reason for his apparent distress, and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of _not_ having to tell him. She hadn't even been trying this past week; it didn't matter when her and Hook had started, all that mattered was that her absence this morning was because she had been with Hook. Neal wasn't dumb; he could read between the lines. Emma had spent last night with Hook. She had evidently been caught with him, likely by David this morning. That was why she was storming back to the apartment before, that's why they were shouting at each other. But what was worse, judging by Mary Margaret's response, it wasn't just some fling or one time only thing, it was real and it meant something.

For the second time in his life, he found himself wandering around in a blind, depressed and angry stupor over Emma Swan. The only problem with this occasion was that he wasn't inexcusably drunk. He wandered the streets blindly, numb to every sense. Only his anger kept him company as it burnt inside him. He couldn't feel the sun on his skin, couldn't see the brightness of the sky, couldn't hear the happiness of the small town's inhabitants. All he knew was that his soul mate, his True Love, had chosen somebody else.

It must have been hours when he returned to Granny's. Breaking through the hedge and trees he looked up to see a dash of blonde moving in the front door. He froze. He couldn't see her, couldn't hear her excuses, couldn't deal with any of it right now. He turned the other way and bolted. He had to get out of sight, had to disappear for a while.

Then he was at the docks staring at the ship that _he _had come on. And as he stared at the swaying vessel, his fury roared. A darkness rose in him as he moved towards it, suddenly intent on acting on his rage. But Hook was nowhere to be found on his ship. Neal didn't bother to explore the multiple decks particularly hard; Hook_ always_ knew when someone boarded his ship, he would have made his presence known if he was about. Neal departed the ship and returned to town, only this time, he kept his eyes up. He wanted to make sure that Emma did not catch him; he wanted to avoid that conversation for as long as possible. Then he saw that little sign.

The Rabbit Hole at night was a fairly reputable bar; it had good music, the patrons were decent and the ambiance was fair. During the daylight hours however, it was, as the name suggested, a hole. The people inside were not the workers blowing off some steam, or the girls in need of a night out. During the daylight hours, it housed the depressed and disappointing of Storybrooke's inhabitants. And the moment Neal opened the door he saw him. He was with his band of merry followers, and the only inhabitant of the bar – nay town – who did _not _dress like he lived in the 21st century.

Neal didn't stop to think about the cliché of the pirate in the bar as he advanced on his nemesis. The feeling of his fist connecting with Hook's cheek was one of the most glorious feelings of Neal's life. The feel of his teeth clashing through his cheek filled Neal with a strange sense of pride, none more so than watching his lip bleed as the man spat blood onto the floor. He would dearly have loved to have been able to hit him again, but alas, all of the men Hook was drinking with rushed to his aid. Fortunately they were all intoxicated enough for Neal to shake them off without much damage, but they still held onto him, preventing him from advancing further.

"What is it with you and taking what's not yours?" He shouted at the man who was still clutching his cheek. "How many wives have you been with? How many mothers?"

Seeing Hook in pain only heightened his perverse sense of joy at the situation. It did nothing to alleviate the fury he felt that this man was taking something else that had never been his.

"I would dearly like to defend myself, but I really don't think you're going to like the honest truth." Hook retorted quietly.

Hook could have been begging for his life, but all that Neal heard was Hook taunting him.

"Seriously? You took my mother away from me when I was a child, and now you're taking my son's? And you're not gonna say anything?" He was flabbergasted.

Their history together may have been complicated, but one thing Neal knew was that Hook never shrugged away from a fight. Whether he was the antagonizer or the defender, he always knew his place and did his darndest to be the victor. And right now, Neal was stunned. He had just loosened more than a few teeth with his fist, accused him of stealing Emma away from him, and Hook _wasn't _going to even attempt any form of a defense? In Neverland Neal had watched Hook fight every person who challenged him on some issue or other. In Neverland, Hook had baited him with his admission about his and Emma's 'dalliance'. It had been purposeful. Hook never did anything on a whim. What he was doing right now had Neal asking the age old proverbial question 'who are you and what have you done with Hook?'

"When I found that picture of my mother you didn't lie to me." He jabbed at the air as he spoke. "But now, you're gonna hold out on the truth? He bellowed, not caring what people heard, or thought.

So he was a big kid who had very big mommy and daddy issues, but every kid who grew up without their parents did. He could only hope that Henry, thanks to his time with Regina, would never have those problems, especially now that he had both his biological parents back in his life.

"I didn't pursue her, if that's what you're implying." Hook whispered threateningly, stepping closer to him, finally taking some form of a stand. "I hadn't seen her since we got back from Neverland."

He didn't know what Hook was playing at. His face was not that of a man taunting another. It was that of a man pleading or warning the other. It was only just a little unsettling.

"But what I will definitely say," Hook continued, "is that she's an adult, as are you. I strongly suggest you go talk to her."

Neal wanted to punch him again, wanted to remove those loose teeth. He didn't want to talk to Emma, he didn't want to hear the lies and excuses she offered him. All he wanted was to hear the lies and excuses of the man before him; wanted to hear why he was so hell bent on taking the most important women from his life.

"Oh and it would do well to remind you that she's nothing like your mother."

And just like that the unsettled feeling Neal was getting from Hook was lifted. He managed to evade the men's grasp momentarily, enough to swing his arm again. But his fist never got anywhere near its target as the men speedily had him in their grasp again. He felt his feet lose support of his body as arms dragged him away. But that wouldn't stop him. He shouted and cursed, throwing profanity after profanity at the men and at the gloating pirate before he was thrown from the bar, landing with a very heavy thud on the sidewalk. It took him a moment to get up, and when he eventually managed it he acknowledged that there were many eyes staring at him, but there was only one pair that met his and caused every ounce of rage to deflate inside of him.

He couldn't even remember why he had been looking for her that morning.

~88888~

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	9. Long Story Short

_Part 2_

~88888~

The tiles were dirty. The grouting needed to be scrubbed. The taps were beginning to rust. The shelf had soap scum compacted into the corner. The only reason Emma saw any of this was because she was staring blankly ahead as the warm water of the shower cascaded over her body. And the only reason she was thinking about the uncleanliness of the wall before her was to keep herself from thinking about the man she had left behind.

Normally, a shower after a good lay rinsed all traces of the encounter away. This time, the warm water did nothing. The warm turrets became his hands, caressing every inch of her skin; the steam mimicked his breath as he whispered sweet nothings as his lips explored her body. At one point she had contemplated using the loofah to scrub herself clean. But that would mean scrubbing him away, and the thought of that was incomprehensible. No, for the first time in a long, long time, she _wanted_ that feeling of intimacy to remain locked into her skin.

She wanted to go back, wanted desperately to return to that cabin, to that bed, to those sheets. She wanted to spend a day just with him, enjoying everything that he had to offer. Her hands slipped between her thighs at the thought, but it appeared that only his hands were going to flick her switch now.

Damn him.

She eventually managed to finish cleaning herself up, turning off the tap and stepping out of the small box. The mirror had fogged up which Emma was thankful for. For some reason she didn't want to look at her reflection. Her bedroom mirror on the other hand wasn't so forgiving. The moment she shut her door she caught her reflection. It wasn't so much her face that she was keen to avoid, it was the marks, his marks. The bites and bruises that only symbolized one thing littered her neck and chest. Her towel slipped and she caught sight of a handful more on her breasts. But there was one bite in particular that caught her attention. It wasn't the biggest, or the smallest, nor was it the darkest. It was just perfectly placed on her chest, right on top of her heart. Her fingers traced its outline softly, all the while knowing what muscle was beneath.

"You're not in love with him, Emma." She said to her reflection. "You can't be."

She was defiant. Under no circumstance would she let her heart have its way. Under no circumstance would she allow her heart to break again; once was enough. But then she imagined his eyes, those perfect cerulean orbs peeking out from beneath his eyelashes.

Men should not be able to look like that.

She remembered what he looked like, his chin resting on the lowest abdominal muscles, looking up at her as she came down from a high. She remembered his fingers, the way they seemed to spark at the contact with her skin as they traced lazy circles on her sides. She remembered his hook, the cold metal burning trails all over her skin. And then she felt her heart, deep inside her chest, fluttering against her ribcage.

She could only imagine the smirk on his face if he knew how her body was reacting to the mere memory of his touch. She turned away from the mirror. She needed to get dressed before Mary Margaret or David barged in to see if she was alright. She could hear banging as David tried to fix the thermostat. But it was what she saw that knocked her out of her reverie.

It was the best photo she had of Henry. It was a picture he had attempted to take with her phone, failing miserably so all it caught was him laughing. Every time she had seen it on her phone during her first year in Storybrooke she had heard his laughter. When she and Mary Margaret had returned from their adventure in the Enchanted Forrest her first stop had been to get the photo enlarged so she could see it every day easily. But seeing it now, it reminded her of what she _had_ to do today; she had to tell him, and Neal about Killian – whoa, she did it again.

Unfortunately, as she was in the process of leaving the apartment, carefully avoiding David, her phone rang. Neal was going to have to wait as her job intruded. The worst part of the phone call was that she very quickly recognized it as being a prank call. Even though it _was _a prank, she still had to head into the station to report it – goddamn the bureaucracy. Whilst there she checked the messages, finished some outstanding paperwork and made a mental note that David, for all his skill at keeping the peace, really was a dreadful office-man.

She had been at the station for barely an hour when she strode out the doors. It was almost eleven, she noted. Plenty of time to find Neal, talk to him about Hook, then pick Henry up from school and tell him. She hoped to find Neal out and about, so she chose not to call him as she pounded the pavement of the town. However, Neal proved to be elusive. She tried his room at Granny's, but it was empty; she then moved on to see if he was at Gold's. He wasn't at the shop, nor was he at his father's home.

"If you see him, can you get him to call me?" She had told Belle as she left the shop.

Belle had told her she would and then Emma was back on the street, looking around helplessly. Where the hell could he be? She moved on to Granny's Diner, hoping, as it was almost lunchtime, that she would see him there. But alas, as she opened the doors, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, Emma, you're alive I see." Granny's voice sounded from behind the counter.

"Ah, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Emma responded, double checking every crevice of the diner for him.

"David was in this morning. Seemed pretty worried that you'd gone missing." She shrugged.

Emma looked to the older woman, taking a seat at the counter. "Yeah, that'll teach me to leave the house early without leaving a note." This conversation was heading for dangerous territory.

"I suppose." Granny nodded, although she didn't look convinced. "Now what can I get you?" She asked pulling out a pad and pen.

Fortune seemed to be favoring Emma in this moment.

When she had set foot inside the diner, and the aromas from the kitchen had found her nose, her stomach had given an almighty roar. She hadn't planned on staying long at Granny's, preferring to be out looking for Neal – even trying him on his cell was proving impossible – but her stomach had changed her plans.

"Just a pastrami sandwich." Emma responded, looking over her shoulder as the door jingled behind her. She had hoped it would be Neal, instead she saw a couple of the dwarves leaving.

"One pastrami sandwich coming right up." Granny nodded moving back into the kitchen.

"May I join you?" Emma turned to see Regina standing before her.

She hadn't seen the woman in her initial sweep of the place, which told Emma she had been in the bathroom. But seeing Henry's other mother reminded her of one other important conversation she needed to have that day. The decision had been made, Mary Margaret and David were going to have the apartment, Emma was going to spend a couple of nights at Granny's – although she doubted that that would actually eventuate – and Henry was going to spend that time with Regina. She just needed to let Regina and Henry know. It was a conversation that she had been pretty sure she could have over the phone, but having it done in person now would be far more convenient.

"I won't bother you too much; I have to get back to the office." She explained.

"Go right ahead." Emma smiled. "I actually wanted to check something with you."

"That sounds ominous, because I wanted to ask a favor but I'll let you go first." She responded.

"Actually I wanted a quick word about Henry." Emma smiled twisting slightly.

"What about Henry?" Regina asked, a frown immediately gracing her brow.

"Nothing's wrong, I just thought it would be good if he could spend the weekend with you." Emma said, surprisingly lamely.

Regina paused for a moment. "Strangely enough that was what I was going to ask you." She said with a weak laugh. "It's not a problem. Is the thermostat really that bad?" Regina questioned.

Emma was relieved, the last thing she wanted to have to do was explain to Regina the real reason she wanted their son to stay with her.

"Yeah, it really is. But David's working on it now, so it should be better soon." She answered as Granny placed her lunch down before her.

Regina nodded. "Right, well the only problem with this plan is getting Henry to my place." She said standing. "Would you or Neal be able to drop him off?" She apologized.

"Won't be a problem." Emma nodded, giving the other woman a thumbs up.

"Good. Thank you Emma." She said as she left the diner.

Emma was thrilled that that part of the plan was sorted. She imagined that Henry, also, would be thrilled that he wasn't going to be expected to come home to an apartment that rivaled the room his nightmares had occupied right after he woke up from his sleeping curse. It would be good for him, get a couple of quiet days in, get his homework done, get lots of sleep, good food; he would be happy and healthy. Her to do list featured one less thing to worry about.

She finished her sandwich, reveling in the glory of Granny's pastrami, before she acknowledged that she had to find Neal and fast. She wanted to have spoken to him before she spoke to Henry, and she had to pick Henry up Henry in just over an hour. As she turned to leave, she caught Ruby giving her a knowing look. Her insides tightened into knots under her knowing gaze.

"I take it you had a good night?" She teased.

Emma stammered.

"You just gobbled that sandwich down quite rapidly." She said with a smirk.

Emma practically ran out of the store as Ruby laughed at her discomfort.

Shaking away the knowledge that Ruby's nose told her far too much about the residents of the town, Emma began her search for Neal. She hadn't gone very far when her phone rang – it was the Sheriff's line. _The second time in one day, evidently the apocalypse is here _Emma thought to herself angrily. Answering the call told her that Hook had found himself in a bar fight at the Rabbit Hole. Emma grumbled as she hung up the phone. He had consistently managed to be the perfect distraction in Neverland, forcing her attention to stay on rescuing Henry rather than dwelling on what Pan must have wanted him for. Now, he was being a needless distraction. Still, it would be unseemly for her to ignore her new boyfriend for her old.

Whoa, things were clearly getting bad in her head if she was thinking of Hook as her _boyfriend_!

As she made her way towards the town's infamous bar she wondered who Hook was crossing this time. It seemed that everywhere he went troubled followed. He was a nightmare.

But as she closed in on the bar, she could only watch in horror as her question was answered. The door to the bar flew open and a group of men, some tiny and some built, quite literally threw a man onto the street before pulling the door shut behind them. As she closed in on the scene, pushing her way through the small crowd that had formed around the dejected figure still lying in a heap, she realized she knew exactly who it was. As she reached the front of the throng, the man looked up and around at his audience and the moment his eyes found hers, she saw anger, fire and burning malice inside them. And as soon as she recognized the way his gaze burnt her (and not in the good way) she saw it all evaporate, replaced with despondency.

In that moment only one thing struck Emma's mind: he knew.

~88888~

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	10. When it Rains, it Pours

_Part 3_

_Side note, i had this particular chapter about half written, and because i wanted to get it up today rushed through it, so i havent had a chance to edit it or check it in the way that i would have liked. You might find its a divine revelation and turn it into your personal grail. I'm convinced i'm going to read this tomorow and just go aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_

_I am evidently sleep deprived...reading time!_

_~88888~_

Emma stared at the man who was still in a heap on the pavement. Some of the town's residents were gaping at the scenario that was Neal lying in a heap outside the front door of the Rabbit Hole. She wanted them all to dissolve. Having this conversation with him in front of everyone had not factored into her plans on how this conversation would go. She refused to have another shouting match with him before everyone, especially when it would reveal her relationship with Hook to everyone. She wasn't ready for the entire town to know that secret. Still, that did nothing to ease the congestion in her heart and stomach.

He knew.

_He knew_.

HE KNEW!

How did he know? Had he seen her on her walk of shame this morning? Had Hook told him? Yeah that was probably it, her cocky new lover had probably crowed all about it. But that didn't seem fitting. Pirate, Killian may be; arrogant son-of-a-bitch, most definitely; but jack-ass? No he had proven himself to be honorable. Kissing and then telling was not something she could really see him do.

"I'm always a gentleman." His words rang in her ears. Gentlemen didn't tell their girlfriend's ex-boyfriends that they'd fucked them senseless. Only jerks did that.

Emma knew she could ask, but she also knew that even if he lied, she would know the answer before he spoke it. She could see it in his eyes, that flat look of someone who had just had their heart broken. She knew that look because she had seen it in her reflection from the police car when she had been arrested all those years ago.

No, Emma rationaled that how he knew wasn't important, but this moment _was_. She had to move past the fact that she was supposed to be the one to tell him, to let him down gently. She had to move on to the next phase of the conversation, the 'we can still be friends' side, (she thought with bitter humor); the forgiving side. But how in the name of almighty God were they going to be able to move on from this with a smile on their faces? This was wrong, completely and utterly wrong. She had to explain her decision to a man who she suspected wanted nothing more than to shout himself hoarse at her.

No, there was definitely no forgiving this.

She wanted to say something, she had to, and she was reaching a point where the town that was still surrounding them didn't matter. She had to let him know that she was sorry. But words didn't come. Instead they found themselves in a stalemate, staring the other down, both forlorn, unable to use their vocabularies in any meaningful way.

_E_ventually, after what felt like an eternity, he stood up, dusted himself off and turned around and walked in the other direction. He didn't even look at her. It was the kick in the pants she needed as she ran after him. Fortunately, the town couldn't keep up.

"Don't, Emma, just don't." He shouted at her as she grabbed his hand. "You just happened to fall in love with the same guy who robbed me of my mother when I was a kid, it doesn't matter." He spat at her sardonically. "I don't blame you. It's clear to me that this is all my fault; I broke your heart a decade ago and now when the opportunity presents itself for you to put it back together you choose not to." He continued striding away from her. "I'm really not surprised at all."

Emma wanted to hit him, such was his tone, but she was having a hard enough time keeping up with him that launching her palm against his cheek was going to be a task.

"You think I planned on falling for the same guy as your mom, you're wrong." She shouted at him incredulously. "You think I did this to spite you, you're an idiot." She grabbed his hand again, yanking hard, forcing him to turn and face her.

"Okay so then what was it? You just fell for his charming smile? He's a womanizing bastard who knows every trick in the book to get a woman into bed." Neal sarcastically spat at her, causing her to flinch.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." She retorted.

"Then don't." He yanked his arm out of her grasp. "Just tell me one thing: How were you going to say 'Neal, I'd much rather fuck Captain Hook than try and work our relationship out in any way'?" He wasn't shouting at her, but the harshness of his words could do nothing but show the extreme hurt he was suffering.

"I wouldn't rather fuck him, than work out our relationship." She admitted. "But I can't work out a relationship when it's clear to me that we have nothing in common anymore." Her shoulders sagged.

"We have Henry!" He pleaded.

"Yes, we have Henry, but I'm not going to take part in a relationship where the only reason his parents are together is because of him." She stabbed back. "That's as bad as parents breaking up because they can't handle being parents."

"You never even gave us a chance." He exhaled dejectedly. "It's clear now that you never wanted to be a family." He turned to continue striding away.

"Neal, I couldn't!" She snapped, following him.

How dare he. How dare he judge her. Did he think that this past week she had been leading him on? Okay so maybe she had been a little bit, but nothing like what he seemed to be suggesting she was. In fact she felt that she herself had been distant this past week. They had barely spoken to each other. It had been awkward, stilted, off. When she had first met him they had had an instant connection. Two lost and tainted youths that stole a yellow bug. They had formed a relationship out of it, but it was hardly a good one. Stealing things every day just to survive wasn't a relationship. It shouldn't have even been love. But it had been. Call it the innocence of youth, but Emma lost all semblance of youth when she was forced to give up her baby whilst in prison. But still, a part of her had held onto that feeling, a part of her that she had always stubbornly ignored. Henry had forced her to acknowledge it; Mary Margaret had forced her to acknowledge it. But Neverland had forced her to acknowledge what a wasteland it was. Still, coming back, she had attempted to forget about everything that had happened in Neverland; go back to the way things were.

It didn't work.

"I wanted to be a family with you and Henry, desperately." She pleaded. "When I told you I loved you, I meant it. A part of me was always clinging to the idea of us as a family, especially since Henry came back into my life. But we've changed too much; we know too much." She explained.

"Doesn't matter." He shook his head, evidently not listening to her.

"Yes it does. You and I are two completely different people from the people we once were. You're reaction to me learning magic from Gold only cemented my thoughts." She continued.

"Doesn't matter." He was still shaking his head.

"You hate magic and everything that magic does to people. But I'm not your father, Regina or Pan. I was born with magic inside of me; it's a part of me, it always has been." She went on.

"Yeah, but Emma I've seen what magic does to people." He pleaded with her.

"Maybe, but I want to know what it means to be the child of True Love." She reasoned; they were back at their argument from a few days earlier. "I want to know what I am capable of, what it entails, what, who, I am." She finished.

She had hoped that they had past this, that everything from that afternoon had been shared, and subsequently finished. Apparently not. She didn't want to be back here, she wanted to be moving on. This was why she had realized that she and Neal were no longer compatible. They were entirely in the past. Their few conversations were often reminiscences rather than present day thoughts. Accepting her responsibility as a mother had made her realize that tomorrow and today were more important than yesterday. She accepted that for Neal that was a lesson that would be learnt, but for the time being he was still stuck in today and yesterday.

Neal sighed. "Still, none of that matters now. You can learn all the magic you want, I don't care, you can become a fucking fairy for all I care, it's not going to do anything to change the fact that you didn't even try to make the family you supposedly were desperate to make."

Right when she thought this conversation was about to end he said something that made her blood boil.

"Not true, I did want to be a family, and I tried, Neal, I really did." She retorted.

"It hasn't even been a week!" He exclaimed.

"How can I be a family with someone, how can I make a family with someone when I don't love them."

At these words Neal froze in place. He didn't turn around to face her, he just stood there. Emma knew that the brevity of what she had just said was biting into him, tormenting him, destroying him.

Emma realized that she was drawn to Hook because he represented something she could have tomorrow. He didn't dwell on the past: it was done, gone, couldn't be changed. He had her realizing that whilst she would always be a mother, she could also be a woman; she could seek a destiny that was more than just being the savior. She could have everything, hope, happiness, family, love. Neal meanwhile symbolized her past; pain, loss, heartbreak, abandonment. She couldn't make a future with someone who was the reason she didn't trust people.

Neal looked away, smiling bitterly. "You're right." He said looking up. "You can't love me because you're in love with him, and don't try to deny it, I know you are." Emma saw a glint in the corner of his eye and realized he was about to crack.

"I'm not-" she began before he cut her off.

"Save it, Emma. I can hear it. Just tell me, why him? Of all the men you could have fallen in love with, why did it have to be him?" He was pleading with her.

For the first time in their entire conversation, he wasn't an angry and rejected lover; he was a man with a broken heart. She realized, suddenly, that this wasn't about her feelings for someone else, this was about him. She realized that Hook and she had a far greater meaning to him than simply her falling in love with someone else. Hook was the pirate who was now ruining his life for the second time. Sure he'd said it to her, but it was hitting her now, Killian Jones, Captain Hook, whatever name he carried, was the man who represented all of Neal's sorrow.

She suddenly found herself struggling to find the words to appease him, to calm him. She didn't choose Hook, she didn't plan on falling in love with him, it just happened – wait, what? She could feel her heart laughing at her brain. So she was in love with him, Killian, Hook, whoever he was.

She looked up at Neal, but words didn't come from her mouth. She couldn't answer him. It had to be Killian because it couldn't have been anyone else.

Neal shook his head, that same bitter expression on his face and she realized that his moment of sorrow had past, he was back to being the vengeful and spurned lover.

"You know, he said you're nothing like my mother." He finally said, albeit quietly, not looking at her. "But he's wrong. You're exactly like her." He looked up at her, meeting her gaze defiantly. "Both of you ran away from the men you had family with for someone else. My mother lost her life because of it. I hope, only for Henry's sake, that the same thing doesn't apply to you."

With that he turned on his heel and strode away. Emma didn't bother to follow, she couldn't, not when her feet were soldered to the floor or her body was rocked to its core.

_~88888~_

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	11. Water Under the Bridge

_Onto the final stretch now people, landing lights are up, seatbelt sign is on, please ensure you are strapped in and have your table-tray in the upright position._

_~88888~_

School was uneventful.

It always was.

Especially now.

Henry had spent his life knowing that something was different about his life and about the town he lived in. He couldn't help it, he just knew. Getting that book from Mary Margaret two years ago had only confirmed his suspicions. This town was full of fairy tale characters, time didn't move in Storybrooke because of the Evil Queen's curse, and the Evil Queen was the woman he called 'mom'. And the woman who was his _real_ mom, she was the only person who could save them all.

And she did save them all, not just once, but twice. If ever Henry had had a moment in his life where he felt unloved, like he had no family, seeing his parents and grandparents barging into Pan's camp with swords aloft served to remind him that he never had been alone, and he would never be alone again. They had saved him. Peter Pan had finally failed.

But then they had returned to Storybrooke, and Henry was learning what a happily ever after felt like; boring.

Oh sure _you_ were safe, your loved ones were safe, your world was safe, but the excitement, the adrenaline of defeating the story's villain, that was gone. Henry imagined that for his grandparents, Snow White and Prince Charming, life would have been much different because they were adults. But he was a kid. He didn't have the life choice of moving on and making his own family. He was eleven years old!

Moving on for him meant going back to school.

But maybe, his happily ever after was what was happening with his parents, Emma, Neal and Regina. He loved the fact that now he could come and go between the three of them easily. He would always prefer to spend his time with Emma, but once or twice, he had seen the pleasure of spending time with Regina. Last night was no exception. Who could sleep in that heat, especially in winter! Plus Regina was a much better cook than his mother, David or even Mary Margaret.

But the thing that made him almost buzz with happiness was the fact that his parents were back together. Was it possible for there to be anything better for a kid with single parents than for them to get back together? Every afternoon he hoped to see them both standing at the bus-stop. It had only happened once, and on that occasion, they hadn't looked particularly happy. Henry later found out that they had had an argument about Emma learning magic.

He didn't understand what the fuss was all about. Snow and Charming's love was True Love; it was a phenomenon that was startlingly rare in the Enchanted Forrest. Henry had once asked Mother Superior about it; apparently the reason couples experiencing True Love were so rare was because often they were torn apart by outside forces; the woman was cursed, the man was imprisoned, one of them was killed, they were forced into marriages with other people and chose to find some semblance of happiness in their enforced life, etc etc. But what she also said was that often, the children of True Love couples didn't even know how special they were because they never needed to fight for things that they wanted. That's why Emma was unique. She had been prophesized to be the savior; that was it. She could have spent the rest of her life not needing to fight for anything else, but fate conspired against her. She had repeatedly been put in situations where she had to fight for what she wanted, and as such, her power had been revealed.

Henry didn't understand why there was an issue about Emma learning what that meant. Emma was good, wholly and completely. Magic was a power that was a force of its own, but Henry knew that his mother was too good to let the dark side of magic sway her. If his father didn't believe that, then that was his problem. Henry couldn't be happier.

Still, the sight of seeing one or the other of his parents every afternoon since did cause him some level of upset. Today was no exception. As he stepped off the bus he saw Emma a few steps away; just Emma. As usual, he looked around quickly, trying to see if his dad was around somewhere. But he wasn't anywhere to be seen. He shook away that disappointment, and instead focused on the fact that his mother was here, that she had shown up since this morning. But there was something wrong; he could see it etched all over her face. She looked like she had when she had told him that his father had been shot and then fallen through a portal. But maybe this just had something to do with whatever she had been doing this morning.

"Hi Mom." He greeted as he reached her. "Are you okay? Did Grandpa find you this morning? He seemed pretty worried."

"Yeah, I was at the station catching up on some paperwork." She responded as he met her. Her voice sounded different, off, like she had been thinking about something else.

"I figured that's where you were. Dad too." He said as they turned and started walking down the street. "Are you okay?" He asked again

He and Emma had only walked a few paces before Emma stopped walking abruptly and turned to him.

"That was a lie." She said looking at his feet, then at him.

This wasn't like her. Henry was confused. "Mom, what's going on?"

"I need to talk to you, kid. Let's sit down." She gestured to the park bench on the other side of the street.

"Mom, what's going on? What was a lie?" He asked again as he sat down beside her.

"I wasn't at the station this morning; that was a lie." She said simply not looking at him. "But I'll get onto the truth later." She looked to her lap then back up at him. "Henry, I don't know what you think has been happening between me and Neal recently, but I need to tell you, that whatever it was, it's over now."

Henry stared at her, not really quite figuring what she was saying. "But, it hasn't even been a week." He countered.

Emma nodded. "I know, and I promised you I wouldn't lie to you. That's why I'm telling you. I don't want you to get your hopes up to high for your dad and me." She reached for his shoulder. "But Henry, the truth is, I don't love him."

"But you haven't given it enough time." He cried shrugging out of her grasp and standing up. "If you just spent a bit more time-"

"I'm sorry Henry, but this is something that I know isn't going to change." She looked away from him at the ground again. "Don't get me wrong, I do love him, I always will, but it's the love of a girl towards her first love and the father of her child." She reached for his hand. "I'm just not _in_ love with him anymore; you can't love two people at the same time."

Henry wasn't sure what his emotions were; he had learnt that there were many things he couldn't know as a child. It felt strange, he wasn't sure why, but he _didn't_ feel angry about Emma's words. Upset yeah, disappointed, of course, but not angry. It was like he knew what it was she was saying before she had said it, like he agreed with her. But hearing her say that she loved two people had him cease his staring contest with her shoes and look up at her face with great interest.

"Are you in love with someone else? Who?" He asked eagerly.

He saw her face falter. He realized that she had said words that she hadn't thought about. But whatever she was feeling now, whatever confusion she was experiencing, her words were true. She was in love.

"Truthfully, I don't know. I think I might be." Her face flushed as she looked away from him. "But I do have feelings for someone else." She admitted slowly.

"Really? Who?" He was so excited by this information; it was like the news that his parents relationship was over before it even began meant nothing compared to this. "If it's meant to be a secret, I promise I won't tell anyone. I just want you to be happy, with whoever that may be."

No matter what happened, Henry loved his mother. He knew and understood her reasons for giving him up when he was born, and he didn't hold it against her. She had done exactly the same thing that her mother had done to her when she was born. Giving the ones you love, your children their best chance at life was a gift that parents in difficult circumstances understood far better than anyone else.

Emma smiled up at her son's enthusiasm. "Promise you won't judge me?"

"Why would I judge you?" He was confused. "Do you judge Belle for falling in love with Rumplestiltskin?" He countered. He took her silence as a response. "See? Now tell me who! I already have two mother's; its time I got a second father!" He demanded with a broad smile.

Emma chuckled weakly. "Hold up kid, let's not go that far." But she didn't say anything more.

Henry took his seat back beside her waiting for her to speak. He sat there quietly, watching her when it suddenly hit him.

"Wait, is it Hook?"

Emma stared at her son with stunned eyes. His jaw dropped when he realized he was right. That moment he had seen them together on the deck of the Jolly Roger as they left Neverland hadn't been a figment of his imagination.

"That is so awesome!" He cried earning a couple of people nearby to stare at him. "Rumplestilskin is my grandfather; Snow White and Prince Charming are my other grandparents, the Evil Queen adopted me, and Captain Hook is going to be my stepfather!" Henry jumped out of his seat, excitedly recounting his family tree.

"Quiet, I don't want the whole town to know." Emma shushed him.

"Sorry." Henry smiled sheepishly.

"So you should be, shouting my personal business for all to hear." She teased.

Henry's laughter faded as one pressing thought struck him that seemed unavoidable. "Does my dad know?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Emma's smile faded as though it had never been there and a look of sorrow replaced it. In the blink of an eye that euphoric trance on her face fell and she suddenly looked like a woman who had just been told she had terminal cancer. Henry found the change disconcerting.

"Yes." She said quietly, looking away from him. "And trust me when I tell you that it wasn't a good conversation."

"Oh." Henry slumped in the seat beside her.

"I don't know what's going to happen there." She continued sadly. "I really don't." She went on wistfully, looking straight ahead, staring into space.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" He asked eagerly.

Emma jerked to look at him. "I don't know what good that will do. I think he just needs to be left alone, work out what he wants now in his own time." She sighed.

"Do you think he'll leave?" He asked.

"No." The answer was out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. "No I don't think he will."

Henry nodded, a silence covering them.

"I want you to go and spend a couple of days at Regina's." Emma eventually said, breaking the silence between them.

"Why?" Henry asked, startled.

"I thought you'd be happy?" Emma's voice was concerned.

"It's not that, I just wasn't expecting you to say that." He said simply. "Do you want to spend alone time with Hook?" He asked with a look that made her shudder.

"No." She responded a little too loudly. Henry watched her face darken with poorly suppressed glee. "No, the apartment's still sweltering, and I figured it would be good for you to spend some time with Regina. You haven't really seen much of her in the last few months."

"Yeah, I suppose." Henry nodded. "Do we have time to go to Granny's, or do you have to take me to Regina's now?" He asked.

Normally whomever it was that picked him up from school or the bus took him to Granny's for an afternoon bite – and of course a hot chocolate – but with the plan now him going to Regina's he didn't know if they would have time. Regina and Emma might have decided to get him to the Mayor's house sooner rather than later. He hoped that wasn't the case. He wanted to spend a little bit of time with his birth mother today.

"We have a few minutes." She smiled, standing and reaching for his hand.

_~88888~_

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	12. A Doubting Thomas

_This chapter, this chapter, has been, impossible! I do apologise for the delay, but this chapter and my muse have not been seeing eye to eye. But FINALLY i managed to get it to do what i wanted it to do. (On a side note, i don't have a beta so its just the assorted me's making the decisions on this chapter and they all hate each other which makes christmas great!) Any ways, on with the show!_

_88888_

A sunset was a sunset no matter where you were. The sun looked the same; the colors were the same, the effect was the same. The only thing that changed was the setting. Hook was sitting at the stern of the Jolly Roger, swigging rum and holding an ice pack to his cheek, marveling at the arrangement of colors above the distant horizon. It was the easiest thing for him to acknowledge as it meant he wasn't dwelling on the fact that his romantic entanglements were repeating themselves.

Why was it that the two women he had fallen in love with were the two most important women in Baelfire or Neal's – whatever he chose to call himself – life?

First it had been the mother. She had been a housewife looking to escape her allotted life and he had been nothing more than the man with the ship. She used to say she fell in love with him almost immediately and that was the reason why she came to him, begging him to take her away. At the time Hook was definitely _not _in love with her. But despite that one particular story construct, he was not a man to deny a woman anything – especially if what the woman wanted ended up with her on her back beneath him. At that moment, he would have laughed hysterically if someone were to come to him and tell him that this housewife was going to have a pronounced effect on his life. But he fell in love with her, and their time together was everything he could ever hoped it could have been.

And then one day, centuries later, he found himself forgetting it all.

In less than half a week he was in love again – although he was loathe to admit it to himself. She wasn't a housewife in a sad existence. She wasn't a woman looking to be woken up by a Pirate's Pillaging ways. She wasn't looking for adventure; she wasn't looking to escape; she was looking for her son. Nothing was going to get in her way. She may have demonstrated a few lapses in concentration, but she refused to be swayed by them and her feelings. And it was that strength of will that Hook was quite certain was the reason he was drawn to her. She was strong and brave, smart and unyielding in her determination. And she had quite a knack for knocking him senseless.

In the time since Killian Jones went from being an upstanding naval officer to feared pirate, he only needed one hand to count the number of people that had bested him. However when it came to counting the number of times this Swan had bested him, he needed another. Whilst it was true that she had caused him physical pain on more than one occasion, she was also had a knack for defeating him with her words. Case in point was what got him back to Neverland. Turning his back on a fight was a cowardly option – but he was a pirate and knew that if the fight did not concern him, then what was the negative in turning away? He had no reason to stay and fight for Storybrooke, so he didn't, but as he stood at the helm, his ship gliding out of the harbor, it was the first time in many, many years that turning away from the fight was the wrong move. And it was all thanks to her, her words, her cutting battle cry. She had decked him without even needing to throw a punch. Yes she was definitely the woman he wanted, definitely the woman who was going to change him, redeem him.

Oh and she was also being courted by the now adult boy that had lost his mother to the devilishly handsome pirate.

Yes, Killian Jones certainly knew how to pick them.

But despite the triangle that was in evidence, Hook had _never _thought about what it would mean to Neal if she chose him. The only reason Hook stayed at the ship as he watched the party advance on Granny's when they returned from Neverland was to give Henry the opportunity to have a family. It's what every child wanted. He hadn't acknowledged that the man on the other side of the boy they had all just risked their lives saving was that same little boy that he had destroyed the life of years ago.

He was a fool.

And now he had an aching jaw to prove it.

And what did all this mean for him and Emma? Was she having the same thoughts? Was she regretting their night together? Was she going to come to him tonight? Wait, what was she going to do and say if she _did _come to him?

His jaw hurt, he was finding that his head was hurting, and the very thought of Emma's absence was making his chest hurt.

"What are you memorizing this time?" Emma's voice sang to him from the stairs.

And just like that, the lump in his chest dissolved. She was here, she came back. He swung to see her, and gloried in her face. Nothing negative could come from the happiness that shone from her eyes and cheeks.

"Oh my God, what happened to your face?" She questioned, rushing to him.

Of course, where he might see a glowing beacon, she saw the dark smear on his jaw that he had exposed after dropping the ice pack. Although in hindsight, he should have acknowledged that if she had seen the ice pack, she probably would have reacted the same way.

"I think you know exactly what happened." He said as she reached him.

She stared at him as she reached him. "Neal."

He could only nod in response.

"Did you tell him? Was that why he ended up with his ass on the sidewalk outside of the Rabbit Hole?" She questioned quietly.

"No, he already knew. I thought you had spoken to him." Hook responded. "His hello to me wasn't so much in words, as they were his fist." He continued with a wry smile. "And yes, that was why he ended up on his ass, as you so eloquently put it." He added.

"Well that's when I spoke to him. Also, my parents both know, Henry knows, and I'm pretty sure that by dawn tomorrow morning everyone in town will know." She added looking away wistfully with a slight grimace to her features.

"Are you planning on taking me in a public place Miss Swan?" He asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Because I'm quite certain that's the only way for the entire town to know."

"No." Emma retorted with a blush. "Neal and I had a pretty big argument, and I don't know how many ears heard it. Also, Ruby could smell it, and she can be a bit of a gossip."

Hook nodded. "Why could Ruby smell it?" He asked after a beat.

"She turns into a wolf." Emma stated matter of factly.

Hook nodded. He'd heard tales about the girl who turned into a wolf come the full moon, but hadn't had the time, or the inclination to investigate fully if it was a) true and b) who it was. But Ruby, the vixen of the diner was the ferocious beast who could kill him with a snap of her jaw. In that moment he acknowledged that she was the being he must _never _cross.

"What does Henry think about us?" He asked, pushing past the image of the wolf hounding his imagination from his mind.

"He thinks it's awesome." She laughed. "All the most famous fairytale heroes and villains make up his family tree. I dropped him off at Regina's, and he couldn't stop talking about what Thanksgiving is going to be like." She added with a small frown.

Hook didn't know, or cared what Thanksgiving was, but what elated him was learning that Henry _wasn't _against the idea of his mother and him being together. As confused and unsure as he had been following his altercation with Neal, it was largely lifted by the knowledge that the boy at the centre of _this _triangle wasn't bothered by his family's destruction. Hook felt his happiness from the morning returning. He reached up to cup her cheek, sliding an obtrusive strand of hair away from her face. His insides warmed as he felt her lean into his touch. They lapsed into a moment of soundless communication, her face leaning into his hand, her eyes closed, his eyes exploring her face.

It was a perfect moment; the sun was clinging to the horizon, the most gorgeous hues of peach and gold warming her skin, alighting her hair. She was a complete vision, even swathed in the many layers of fabric she wore to keep herself warm. And the best part of all of this: the people who needed to know about their relationship, not only did they know, but they hadn't stopped her from returning. She was his, and by Jove was he going to make sure that that did not change.

"I'm sorry." She whispered breaking the silence, and interrupting his reverie.

Hook could only stare at her blankly. He couldn't fathom what on earth she could possibly be sorry for – unless this was the moment he had feared; she was leaving. Her family and friends _were _stopping her from returning to him. This was their farewell. No, not on his watch was that happening. He would sweep her off her feet and lock her in his cabin if he had to.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" He attempted to keep his voice calm, and hated the hitch and the hesitancy that interrupted him.

"Neal." She exhaled heavily. "I'm sorry about Neal."

Whilst his insides definitely relaxed as he realized she was apologizing for Neal hitting him, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling that more was to come.

"Don't be." He breathed. "You have nothing to be sorry for where he is concerned."

"Yes I do." She spoke over him, almost whining.

"No you don't." He said firmly, clasping her face, standing up to her. "You're not the one responsible for tearing his family apart." He leaned in to her, his face inches from hers.

She laughed. "I'm partly responsible."

She stepped away from him, evading his grasp which only petrified him more. After taking several steps away from him she stopped, looking back at him, taking a deep breath.

"Hook, I realized that being a family with him wasn't going to work because your heart needs to be in it, and mine wasn't going to be." She said slowly, her eyes staring daggers into his. "The Swan-Cassidy family would never have stood a chance."

"Why?" He asked with a lump in his throat, one that again he was most annoyed that he couldn't hide from his voice.

She sighed again, looking away for a moment. "I thought that would be clear." She almost chuckled. "I'm not in love with _him_."

Hook stared at her as she stood there, and realized that it was his turn to move, his turn to approach her. He realized as their staring match wore on that for the first time in a long, long time, she didn't have any walls left, they had crumbled before his eyes leaving her completely exposed. He realized just how petrified she was of this change based on the way she was standing. If he didn't acknowledge her statement correctly she was going to run, going to be completely devastated. It would undoubtedly crush her, and would inevitably kill him.

He made another mental note as he stepped toward her slowly; if he broke her heart, he was going to have to become an extreme hide-and-seek champion to save himself from her father – and her mother – unless he took the honorable option and just slayed himself.

"You shouldn't be." He breathed after a beat, his eyes still locked on hers as he moved toward her, acknowledging the oddity that was their word choice.

"Yes. I. Do." She responded emphatically.

He clasped her face again, his forehead resting against hers, his eyes searching for the truth in her opposing irises. They were silent, barely breathing, refusing to blink. Her words had been weights that hung in the air around them loaded with facts that just to be spoken would have had nowhere near the same impact. He couldn't blink, couldn't breathe, couldn't even swallow. For some reason, to do anything that he had some control over would break whatever spell had descended over them. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to pull her up against him and devour her. But despite their proximity, kissing her seemed to be the wrong choice. Instead he just gazed at her, wondering how she had managed to invade his senses in such a way.

Not so very long ago, if the Gods had granted him one wish, anything he desired, it would have been to have Milah returned to him. The two of them could rejoice in their reunion by killing her ex-husband. But now, his only wish would be to spend the rest of his life knowing what Emma Swan looked like in the final dregs of pink and honey light at sunset.

He held her cheeks, his thumb tracing her cheekbone and the corner of her lips, the tip of his nose grazing hers. He felt her mouth twitch upwards, felt her insides rejoicing against him. His fears were gone, never to return. She was staying; she was his; she was happy; she was in love.

"I'm sorry he punched you; you didn't deserve that." She eventually spoke, breaking the silence that had once again fallen over them.

He almost laughed in response. "Yes I did." He smiled, wrapping his arms around her. "I took his mother away, I ruined his childhood. He might be an adult now, but I'm doing the same thing. He has a woman that he's now in love with that he has the chance of being a family with and I'm taking her away from him." He explained throatily, pulling her body against his, marveling in their contact.

Emma shook her head as he spoke, a loud grumble escaping her throat. "The difference though, is that I've spent the past decade with him out of my life. I'm not some oppressed woman running from a coward and seeking adventure, I'm free to choose my own life." She lifted her hands to his face, arching her body against. "And I choose you."

Her voice was jarring in the stillness that surrounded them. Hook realized that the time for not kissing her had passed as his lips found hers. This was now the umpteenth time that Hook had kissed her and this was the first time that he felt in a kiss what he saw between David and Mary Margaret. Love. Lust, passion, desire, they were great, hot and formidable assets, but love left them for dead. As her arms snaked around his neck, pulling herself, if even possible, closer to him, and his arms around her they were locked together, completely lost to the world around them.

As they pulled apart moments later, both completely out of breath, their eyes wide as understanding crept over them, Hook found himself wondering who 'Milah' even was. Emma seemed to catch her breath faster than him, and then slunk out of his grip, backing away, biting her lip, and a come hither look in her eye. The sun had finally dipped beneath the horizon, leaving nothing more than a peach tinge to the distant horizon surrounded by a long smear of navy. A small handful of pristine dots littered the sky above him, almost perfectly mirrored in the sea beneath. But Emma seemed to glow in the darkness. Despite the many layers of clothes encompassing her figure, she was still easily the most perfect creature he had ever seen. As a hunger filled his gut that had nothing to do with food, he followed her, wanting nothing more than to see, feel and then have, the goddess trapped beneath.

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